It was my sister's vacation pictures that sent me over the edge. There she was in front of a gushing tiled fountain at The Royal in Playa del Carmen, clad in a black tank top and blithely displaying her annoyingly toned arms. Ugh. I'm stockpiling polo shirts and cardies, and she's globe-trotting, sleeveless, without a care in the world.
Why such a bee in my bonnet? She's older than I am. It would be impolite to reveal how much, but let's just say that first-generation bell-bottoms and platforms figured prominently in her high school wardrobe. Another clue: She was a huge Monkees fan.
Pushing my slim-arm jealousy aside for the greater good of all womankind, I e-mailed her for her secrets. "Fork it over," I wrote. "All of it."
Initially, she tried to deflect the praise. "We all have our okay and not-so-okay body parts," she responded. "Mine, even at my advanced age, just happen to still include my arms." But then she got to the crux of the matter: lifting weights at the gym. It seems she has an elaborate routine, involving six machines that target the shoulders, "tris, bis, and lats." (When did she learn to speak fluent Muscle Mass?)
"A lot of women steer clear of arm and upper-body machines for fear of getting 'too' muscular," Big Sis added. "But the chances of that happening are just about zero unless it's your specific goal and you work hard toward it. Or you're one of the Williams sisters."
I'm in no danger of having anyone mistake me for Venus or Serena. And now that my diapered darling is ambulatory and I don't have to literally lug her everywhere (save for hoisting her onto the changing table and out of the stroller), I've lost my built-in daily upper-body workout.
So, sadly, I'll have to actually work to blast the flabby bits that haunt me. You know, that loathsome area on the back of each arm, right near the armpit. I can be having a perfectly nice day and then spot those in the mirror and become instantly furious. Thus all the covering up.
For tips, I turned to New York City–based fitness trainer Emanuel Gonzalez. The first thing that popped out of his mouth shocked me. "Cardio," he said. "You need to move more." By trimming down globally, Gonzalez explained, I'll begin to see more definition in my arms.
Digging deeper, I dug out my dog-eared copy of Now or Never, by the insanely fit Joyce Vedral. Sure enough, the groovy '80s tome has entire sections on shoulders, tris, bis, and lats. If you can get your hands on this book, I highly recommend it. (The "Dips Between Benches" exercise, which targets the entire horrible area, is alone worth the price of admission.) If not, try the DVD.
I figure if I buckle down now, I'll be ready for the big reveal by next summer. Until then, I'll be keeping my vacation snaps to myself.
