The word for today is ARMS, the kind you lift with, reach with, hold with, hug with, the kind that go in sleeves, that have pecs, triceps, biceps, or flab. An arm is also a part of a chair, a part of an organization or military operation. As a verb ARMS means to provide with weapons. Ever since nuclear weapons were developed, countries have been trying to win or defuse the ARMS race. In the Constitution the second amendment of the Bill of Rights reads: A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear ARMS, shall not be infringed.
I do not intend to write about the second amendment. I do though find it curious that the introductory phrase concerning a well regulated Militia, is so often, and so conveniently, forgotten, by those who advocate gun rights. When I think of the right to bear arms, I prefer to think of the right to BEAR ARMS, meaning everyone should be able to have big arms covered with brown fur that end in big padded paws. We could have bumper stickers that say "I believe in the right to BEAR ARMS" with a picture of a person holding a shotgun or automatic weapon in their big brown hairy paws! Of course one would have to decide if he or she believed in the right to black bear ARMS, brown bear ARMS, or polar bear ARMS.
So let's get back to the arms that are part of our bodies. When I was growing up I had long, gangly arms. My arms were so long that I had trouble finding jackets or blazers with sleeves that went down to my wrists. I didn't like to wear sleeveless tops. I thought my arms looked like fragile sticks protruding from an overgrown plant. Until just a few years ago, I preferred my arms to be covered up by fabric. I was ashamed of how long they were.
Now that I'm 50, I like my ARMS. My ARMS bear no flab, no shaking curdled skin unlike my thighs, sigh.. My long arms help me reach up high, they help me hold on tight, they help me hug and show affection. A part of me that I thought was a liability is really an asset. I am glad I have the right to bear my bare ARMS.
Wish I could say the same...very self conscious of my upper arms...not because of flab...have none...but because if smallish scars just above where short sleaves stop...
ReplyDeleteleft over from childhood baby shots...can not to this day feel comfortable in sleaveless tops...just leftover feelings from an insecure young girl...I really don't give it much thought at all...just avoid wearing sleaveless things away from home...isn't that silly of me...I know it is but still do it out of habit.
I love this post!
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