Gyminy Cricket!

After the stroke in May 2008, my husband and I went to the gym and started working out. We had belonged to the gym for years but decided to actually use the facility. Now that work is no longer an issue for me, I have started working out in the morning. The gym isn't crowded and it seemed like a good idea. The denizens of my gym at ten am on a weekday are mostly grey of hair and wrinkley of face and I felt like a kid among them. I was watching a bunch of oldies in an aerobics class and I noticed that one lady had a person with her to carry her oxygen tank. Sigh. Bless her heart,though, the old dear was trying.When I went to start my workout, I had to chase a senior citizen off one of the leg machines because she was just sitting there, talking to her friend.

I did my legs and heinie, then I went to work on my arms. Now, you have to know that this gym has spared NO expense on mirrors. You have no choice but to check out your reflection and evaluate yourself whether you want to or not. Forced against my will, I began to examine my reflection as I was shoving weight up, down and out in pursuit of perfect, Michelle-quality arm muscles.

" Well, neck - a little turkeyage but I'm down to one chin. That's good. Clavicals - visible. Yay. Waist - I have one. Legs - muscular but not gross." I got to the shoving out machine.

"Forearms - defined. Cool. Upper arms - What. Is. That?" On the push foreward everything's fine. On the release, though, when my arms are all the way back, I see it. Flappage. Soft, dimply, loose skin with no support just peeking out of my t-shirt sleeve. Flashbacks start going through my mind.

My grandma had epic arm flaps. They looked like drapes. And in my memory they hung halfway
to her waist. My grandma always wore muumuus and her arm flaps were out there in front of God and everybody. As a kid, I was alternately grossed out and fascinated by them. What force had formed this flappage? Did all grandmas have it? If I wrap it all the way around her arm and let go, would it unwrap by itself? Would there be wind? I was a weird little kid, but that arm flappage fascinated me and now I was getting it. Ew.

I spent the rest of my gym time woking out and contemplating the vagueries of genetics. My mom didn't have flappage but then she had never been fat. My grandma was pretty heavy at points in her life according to photographs and God knows I was a lard-butt before I dropped 50 pounds. But I work out and I know that niether my mom nor my grandma did any more exercise than getting up to go get a fresh pack of cigarettes and open it.

So, I guess I have to figure this out on my own. Feel my way. Keep a close eye on my flappage and take it as it comes. Workout over, I head to my car. Getting in, I turn on the car. The radio is playing the Commodores "Brick House." "She's mighty, mighty, just lettin' it all hang out." Ok - I can deal with this - I'mm mighty, mighty...with flaps