The one change that worked: I learned to love my arms ā after decades of hating and hiding them
It took a heatwave to get me to shed my shame and my sleeves, but now thereās no stopping me. Life is cooler in every
It took a heatwave to get me to shed my shame and my sleeves, but now thereās no stopping me. Life is cooler in every way āArenāt you hot in that?ā was the question that plagued my summers as a teenager. I would never bare my arms; instead, I would cover up with a trusty black cardigan.
Even T-shirts felt too revealing, too tight on the arm, too clinging to the body. I needed layers to feel comfortable. Well, comfortable isnāt the right word. I was never comfortable, despite telling everyone: āNo, Iām not hot. I donāt really feel the heat.ā In my 20s and 30s, I collected a hot-weather capsule wardrobe of T-shirt dresses in various sizes, all baggy and sleeved.
But why? Iām someone who should know better. Iāve read the books, Iāve shared the memes. I know, from body-positivity activists, that you donāt have to deny yourself the joy of being at the beach or pool just because a magazine tells you you have to get yourself ābeach-body readyā: slimmer, hairless, perfect.
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