What's That On My Arm?

Yesterday, I was reclining on the couch in the evening, just reading a magazine, and I reached up absent-mindedly to scratch my arm.

I felt something odd.

I hitched up my sleeve, looked down, felt around, wondering, "What the heck was that I just felt?"

I mean, I'm middle-aged. Visions of cancer are always in the periphery.

False alarm.

It was... a muscle.

Stop laughing.

Okay, go ahead. Chuckle. I did.

I'm not used to having muscles. Nearly four months of Pilates, and I have fricken BICEPS MUSCLES. I have muscles--all hard under the too generous flesh--in my thighs. My abdomen has hard bits under the flab.

Interesting.

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