a question of size

After our hellos, the first thing that she said was, “I don’t want to get big.“

I took a moment before replying. Looking reasonably fit, she wasn’t the first new client to say something similar. This always was a time to celebrate, in a way, whatever the way to weight training. It wasn’t that rare anymore; but in the general population, even in her age group, it wasn’t prevalent.

When the gym opened years ago, it was divided into two areas, separated by a sliding wall. On one side were free weights & benches and resistance machines. Guys in shorts and tees. The other side was mostly space, with some floor mats, risers, and resistance bands. Women in spandex. It was like watching “Arnold Schwarzenegger” (pump you up) and “Jane Fonda” (go go go) exercise videos.

In the past, I’d sometimes talked about myths, misconceptions, hormones. Mere mortals versus professional athletes. Or shared photos of natural fitness competitors.

Anyway, I smiled and merely said, “Don’t worry, it won’t happen.” She seemed to relax somewhat. Time will tell, eh.

3-29-2025 jph

bat wings begone

Prompt: Write a short story which starts with the line “The first thing she said was, ‘I want to get rid of my bat wings' (the drooping flab under her upper arms)."

The first thing she said was, “I want to get rid of my bat wings.“

Marcy stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the soft folds with a dramatic sigh, her reflection framed by the clutter of her tiny apartment gym—a single dusty dumbbell, a jump rope tangled like spaghetti, and an exercise mat that had seen better days.

Her best friend, Jess, lounged on the couch, half-buried under a pile of laundry, munching on a bag of pretzels. “You know,” Jess said between crunches, “I hear hiring a personal trainer works wonders. Or… embracing the bat. Maybe even name them. Righty and Lefty.”

Marcy rolled her eyes, determined. She wasn’t just chasing toned arms; she was chasing something more elusive—confidence. The next morning, armed with YouTube tutorials and a fierce playlist, she began. Push-ups, tricep dips, shadowboxing with enthusiasm that could scare off actual bats.

Weeks blurred into months. The mirror reflected not just physical changes but something brighter—a spark in her eyes, her laugh echoing louder, prouder. One day, Jess dropped by, pausing mid-pretzel. “Whoa, Marcy, your arms! Look at Righty and Lefty go.”

Marcy flexed with a grin. “Nah, these aren’t bat wings anymore. They’re my victory banners.”

Because in the end, it wasn’t about losing flab. It was about gaining strength—in her arms, her heart, and her spirit.

4-7-2025 [1]

shape that booty

Prompt: Write a short story which starts with the line “The first thing she said was, ‘I want to build up my ass' (booty)."

The first thing she said was, “I want to build up my ass.“

Sam declared this with the fiery conviction of someone who had just discovered a life-altering truth. Her best friend, Mia, nearly choked on her iced coffee, sputtering with laughter.

“Well, that’s one way to start brunch,” Mia replied, dabbing at her chin with a napkin.

But Sam was serious. She slapped down a crumpled piece of paper, scribbled with workout plans she’d pieced together from fitness blogs and late-night YouTube rabbit holes. Squats. Lunges. Hip thrusts. A mission statement disguised as bullet points.

“I’m tired of jeans that don’t fit right, sitting on hard chairs like I’m punishing my tailbone, and feeling invisible,” Sam said, her voice low but fierce.

Mia nodded, seeing past the humor to the spark beneath. “Alright. Let’s do it. Booty or bust.”

The first workout nearly broke them—legs trembling, laughter turning into gasps, collapsing onto the floor in a sweaty heap. But they kept going. Morning runs, evening squats, and impromptu dance sessions in Sam’s living room, where they cheered for every rep like it was an Olympic event.

Weeks turned into months. The mirror reflected not just a rounder, stronger silhouette but the confidence stitched into every curve. One day, Sam slipped into a pair of jeans that had once mocked her from the back of her closet. They fit like they were made for her.

She twirled in front of Mia, grinning. “Behold, the booty of my labor!”

But it was more than just glutes. It was the pride in her posture, the strength in her stride, and the joy of a promise kept—to herself.

4-7-2025 [2]

Notes

[1] “Bat wings” aka “lunch lady arms” aka “fluffy fat” aka “flabby arms” aka “underarm jiggle” is drooping upper arm fat – excess sagging (loose & flabby) skin on the undersides of one’s upper arms. More commonly in women. Associated muscle groups: triceps, biceps. Associated conditions: aging, skin elasticity, weight change, muscle tone, diet, sleep, stress. Common targeted arm exercises: bicep curls, tricep dips, modified push-ups (be patient & consistent). Myth: spot (fat) reduction.

References

• Silver Sneakers > “5 Best Exercises to Target Underarm Jiggle” by Elizabeth Millard, A.C.E.-certified trainer, RYT-200 registered yoga teacher (September 29, 2023)

[2] Common targeted (compound) exercises: squats, lunges, hip thrusts, deadlifts, glute bridges, single-leg squats, step-ups, …

Cf. AI overview for “How long does it take to build a butt?“