Why I love my fat arms.

They have stretch marks. They have the “bingo wave” refined to an art. They aren’t particularly muscular-looking. They have the forearm fat flap.

But it’s all good. They are strong enough to move furniture, and long enough to reach the top of shelves. They are especially good at hugging my children.

The forearm fat flap is very convenient, though. When I’m holding a heavy, wriggling toddler who is about to slip out of my grasp, having that extra bit of grip to keep her from running off to freedom comes in handy. She may wriggle herself around so she’s practically hanging upside-down and screaming to be set free in the middle of the supermarket parking lot, but my grip will not relent. She is safely, firmly, and cushily within her mother’s grasp.

So yeah. Fat arms rule, yo.