The Human Condition: Strong Arms

She pulled her tiny human closer, her strong arms encompassing the small torso, so close she could feel her babe’s breath moving slowly in and out of her little body. Asleep at last.

In that moment she noticed her strong arms. She noticed the almost magical ability her arms possessed to hold her little one gently, yet firmly in place for long enough to impose sleep.

They were the same arms that had held her babe for the first time, that twisted and contorted to guide the same child to the breast for sustenance in the early days. Those arms had an important, a critical role in her family and if she wanted to be really weird about it she would have, could have become truly excited in a celebration of these strong arms.

The babe let out a gentle snore and she noticed her arms had done the job. The babe was soundly, safely asleep. She gently crept out of the bed ensuring she didn’t wake the sleeping infant.

Her eyes met her arms in the harsh light of the bathroom mirror.

“Fat.” Was the first word that came to mind as she examined her arms with particular emphasis on the fatty tissue connecting her arms to her torso in the mirror. She lifted her right arm and shook it just a little. The fat underneath her arm wobbled and she tried to flex the muscle reminiscing younger days.

In the place of bulging muscle was something that seemed foreign each time she witnessed it. Her skin wrapped around a jiggly, dimpled substance that now…