GG Whiz

Last week, a gent of my acquaintance turned to me and said “Pardon my language” before he used the word “boob”. Seriously, he really did.

To be fair, he is a gent. It was a hot LA night and his stylish (long-sleeved!) black button-down shirt was pristine. Everyone else was raining sweat. He made the outdoor parking lot look air-conditioned.

But I digress.

I was going to talk about boobs, and not just to confuse the search engines and rack up the hits.

Hehehehe, I said “rack”. Ahem.

In case we haven’t actually met, I have a rack appropriate to the pre-Soviet Russian peasant matriarchy whence I descended. My role model growing up was Carol Wayne in “Love, American Style”. I don’t laugh at Dolly Parton jokes because I don’t get the humor in stating the obvious.

Ok, that was a joke. The obvious is usually pretty damn funny.

And, since we’re talking about boobs, knockers, breastage – for once I’m not digressing. It doesn’t get more obvious than a good-sized pair.

Before you think I’m bragging about mine, I’m not. Along with the chichis, I also inherited arm wings that make Dumbo look aeronautically challenged. This is in spite of 30 years as a disciplined gym rat.

The genetics cancel out, believe me.

Take this afternoon. We had a visit with my charming and terrific younger cousin and his exceptionally lovely young wife and kids. She (the exceptionally lovely wife) and I were both wearing sleeveless tops. Of course we were. It’s July in California. It’s warm outside.

But I also had my lightest overshirt on, to cover my flappy flaps. My beautiful cousin-in-law got to be comfortable.

For contrast, I spent the later part of the evening with an also-lovely friend my own age. I don’t think you’ll be surprised that the conversation touched on arm flaps and other merry vicissitudes of Time.

This is where Auntie is supposed to sound all wise and talk about how everything balances out eventually. You know, karma. Harmony. Homeostasis. That kind of thing.

Who knows? It might even be true.

But if there’s an upside to menopausal arm flab, I sure haven’t found it yet.