Hey Bucko! Eyes Up Here
No, they’re not looking there. I wish they were. That would be easier to deal with, I think.
I am a gastric bypass patient. I lost 160 pounds over 10 years ago. I have excess skin. I come from a long line of women blessed with both batwings and thunder thighs-even on the thin ones. Combine my genetic tendency with that amount of massive weight loss and well, yeah, my thighs would not make Heidi Klum jealous and my arms certainly do not rival Madonna’s. I rarely ever wear shorts because well, I rarely wore them when I was obese and I don’t really wear them now. However, I did wear sleeveless shirts before surgery because I live in Tennessee and it’s hotter than Hades here from April/May through September/October.
I typically wear some type of shrug or sweater over my arms because I don’t love how they look. I realize they are not attractive; however, the number of people I’ve encountered lately who are staring at or making “eye contact” with my arms, more specifically my batwings, while I’m speaking is frustrating. Uh, hello, just need to clarify, my eyes are up here, not on my arms. Just like my personality, my intelligence and my worth were not and are not directly related to my weight; they are not tied directly to my arm jiggle.
I went shopping last week for some cute little dresses to wear at ASMBS. I found an adorable silky navy number, sleeveless of course, so my first instinct was to try and find something to wear over it. The adorable sales person asked me why on earth was I trying to find something to cover up that cute dress when it’s summertime in Tennessee. I looked at her, looked at the dress and wondered the same thing. So you know what? I bought the cute dress, I quit looking for something to cover up the cute dress and guess what? Both me and my arms will be rocking that dress at ASMBS, but just remember if I see you there, “The eyes are up here, Bucko.”