Fat Arms

So, I teach preschool, and there is a three year old boy in my classroom who can't seem to get enough of my arms - especially these days in tank top weather.  He is always touching, rubbing, squeezing, and leaning his face against my arms.  While it is nice to be loved, at times it drives me a little crazy.  So, I decided to mention this odd behavior to his mom.

Me: "Your son seems to have a thing for my arms.  He's always touching my upper arms."

The Mom:  "Yeah, he really loves fat arms."

Don't be too upset at this treatment I received from this parent - I've known her for many years and through many sizes (for both of us).  She also recently looked pointedly at me recently when she said:

"I'm gonna start selling girdles.  I know a lot of people who REALLY(nodding head) NEED a girdle."

But still, you know?

Anyway - I started to think that maybe this child sees some beauty that I am not seeing.  They say that young children can see and understand things that we don't - so maybe this is true in the case of this young boy.  So I started really looking at the fat arms all around me.  Wherever I have gone, I have taken assessment of the fat arms I have seen.  I have looked for the appeal of the fat arms.  I have tried to overcome learned prejudice, and see the inner sexiness of the fat arm.  I have tried, and failed.

Turns out this kid just has a weird obsession with fat arms - maybe he just wonders why they are so bumpy and jiggly.  I am guessing that within a few years time he will get over this fat arm thing, and be just as judgmental as the rest of us.

Yes - I believe in inner beauty.  Yes, I believe that the body is simply the vessel that carries the soul - and therefore is not necessarily the personification of true goodness and light.  But, man oh man, the fat upper arm just isn't the place to look for inner beauty and light.  

So yeah - the answer to that is probably hand weights - which I'll have to dig out of the bottom of the pile of unused crap in our back closet.  I used to have an awesome thing called a Power Belt that was a belt with handles that pulled out on cords that could be set to different tensions - but my boys (the barbarians) used it to climb a tree during one of my anti-exercise periods - so hand weights it is.  I hate to give up my laziness, but this little boy's adoration is a constant reminder of my fat arms - so I simply can't ignore them anymore.