Wednesday, July 21, 2010
I wish my arms would shrink at the same rate my rear end is shrinking. I have really fat arms. We're talking pterodactyl-sized bat wings. Seriously, I could knock someone unconscious with a simple wave. I feel like I should have liability insurance for my arms. I could be in a commercial for some creepy lawyer referral service. "Have you or someone you love been injured by a mega bat wing? Call today!"
Really, what is this arm business all about? I am terrified that I will lose all the extra weight and become perfectly normal-sized except for the floppy hams hanging off my upper arms. I was examining the skin on my arms yesterday. It's all soft and crepe-y like the skin on elderly people. My grandmother had skin like that. When did I get old enough to have arm flap skin like my grandmother??
Now I'm convinced that I will need one of those sculpting surgeries to remove my wings. I do not want to have arm seams! How will I pay for them? So many things to worry about. I hate scars in sensitive areas. They itch and tingle and take forever to toughen up. But, I'm tough. I can handle just about anything . What if I end up looking like a football? Stitched-up pigskin... now that hits a bit too close to home. Maybe I could get a nice set of tattoos along the seams that say, "In case of emergency, pull tab." Of course, I would need nice little zipper pulls inked on there too.
Now, some of you might be thinking that I am awfully optimistic about all the changes I see happening in the future. My problem is that, in my mind's eye, I am already at the end of my weight loss journey. I have visualized my success so well that I sometimes forget that I have just barely started down the road. I just hopped onto Highway 150 a month and a half ago, but mentally I am already kicking back at the end of the trip. I can picture the scene in my mind. There I am, sitting in an Adirondack chair, out at the end of a dock, cool beverage in hand. I'll be the one in the tank top, waving my arms with wild abandon.