Not My Arm…

As a human with unimpaired vision I am easily able to see what’s happening with my body as I age.


Like most, I can be pretty critical of myself. For example, the other day I wondered why I wore the size 8 bikini when the size 6 provided far more opportunity for my ‘girls’ to benefit from the sun. Then I remembered pool Zumba.


Sunning aside, I regularly have to make life-changing decisions related to my body and my attire. For example, should I wear a sleeveless shirt or should I cover my biceps with a nice cap sleeve? These are my struggles and they are real.


Today, I opted for sleeveless and proudly took my biceps out on the town to participate in a paint nite/day party.


As often happens at social events such as this, photos were taken and shared on the World Wide Web. This gave me the opportunity to immediately visually reminisce about the event. As I did so, I became a bit preoccupied with my arm.


“My arm looks really big in this picture,” I told Beaner and added, “I need to work out.”


She took a quick look at the photo, shook her head, laughed a bit and provided some honest feedback.


“That’s not your arm,” she advised and went on to inform me that the arm I was seeing actually belonged to Live Longer.


I took another glance, this time zooming in, and realized she was right. That wasn’t my arm.


With this newfound information in mind I threw caution to the wind, picked up my glass of wine with my ‘that’s not your arm’ arm – being sure to show off my great bicep, and enjoyed another calorie or two.

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