Open arms

Yesterday I got to spend the day with one of my best friends. She's been out of town for weeks with business and church mission trips, so we had a lot of catching up to do. In between her news and mine, we fell on one of our safest and most well-worn subjects -- aging.

Since we met when we were young, beautiful college freshmen with the whole world ahead of us, and now we're both facing 50 with a lot of miles behind us, maybe it's inevitable. Also, beauty has quite literally been our business. She owned a cosmetics boutique and day spa for years. I work with women who want to look their absolute best for their wedding day.

We're also in the position of being slimmer than we have in years. She had bariatric surgery, and though Weight Watchers is a fond memory for me, I'm maintaining my weight loss with some fluctuations. Between age and weight loss though, we're both dealing with some appearance issues we never anticipated -- specifically arms.

When I was younger I never noticed what happens to women's arms when they age. I never saw an older woman with soft arms and thought yuck. It just didn't matter, but there wasn't the focus on muscularity then that there is now either. Back then, aerobic fitness was all that mattered. Actually it was keeping up with the moves while in neck to toe spandex, leg warmers and head bands. Now Madonna's arms make web site front page news.

My arms probably don't bother anybody but me. Well, if someone is bothered by them, they're probably not someone I really want to know. I do want to build my strength and flexibility, and that's why I do those behind the back arm lifts with weights. If it makes me more aesthetically pleasing, well, that's just gravy. It's really too trivial for the emotional energy I waste on them. That may be why I quipped to my friend, "Hey, batwings are beautiful."

I think I'll have T-shirts printed.