Of muscles and men
/
The other day, my kids were flexing their bicep muscles and showing off to each other. Not one to be outdone, I lifted my shirt sleeve and showcased my own muscles.
Or lack thereof.
The Husband laughed, in a polite sort of way, and felt the proffered muscle. Finding my arm lacking muscles of any sort, he started pinching around as if trying to solve the riddle of the missing bicep. What he did find in abundance, apparently, was a good deal of the squishy old lady flab underneath my arm.
The slight look of horror on his face told me he might not be too impressed.
I kindly offered to keep ALL my jiggly bits from his sight and touch, lest they gross him out and affect his ability to concentrate in meetings at work.
He suddenly found within himself and professed an undying love for ALL my body parts.
Especially the jiggly ones.
Imagine that.
Or lack thereof.
The Husband laughed, in a polite sort of way, and felt the proffered muscle. Finding my arm lacking muscles of any sort, he started pinching around as if trying to solve the riddle of the missing bicep. What he did find in abundance, apparently, was a good deal of the squishy old lady flab underneath my arm.
The slight look of horror on his face told me he might not be too impressed.
I kindly offered to keep ALL my jiggly bits from his sight and touch, lest they gross him out and affect his ability to concentrate in meetings at work.
He suddenly found within himself and professed an undying love for ALL my body parts.
Especially the jiggly ones.
Imagine that.
