Arm flab. This is the one aspect of not being in my 20s anymore that I have not fully come to terms with. I have decided that the gray hairs give my hair some sparkly highlights and some kick that it would not otherwise have. The dimply cellulite on my backside and thighs can just be ignored because hey, it's on the back. The vertical lines running up and down my right cheek when I get of bed in the morning, well, I just don't look in a mirror as closely or too often. Because laugh lines are not just for laughing anymore. And I have decided that the sun damage to my face gives me kind of an earthy look. Or maybe people just think my face is dirty all the time.
I think I take it all in stride for the most part. But not with arm flab. For one thing, why, of all places, is there flab on my arms? I get the stomach, the backside, the thighs, the double chin. But the upper arms seem obscure to me. Furthermore, it is impossible for me to ignore this flabby inundation. I can cover it. I can not look at it. But I can't deny it.
Like when I am peppering my food. I like pepper. I figure the more pepper, the better, but everything has its limits. Even pepper. So there I am, peppering away, and my flab is jiggling. Then I think, well that's an odd sensation, so I pepper some more, just to try to figure out what is going on with the backs of my arms. Before I know it, the food is over peppered. And this is all because of arm flab.
Arm flab can cause you to overdo other things too. Vigorously shaking someone's hand for instance. Or waving at people on the streets. Before I know it, I am going to be known for having spastic arms. Maybe that's cool though. I'm not in my 20s anymore, and its about time I adopt some idiosyncratic quirk of the aging.