Michelle Obama Has Nothin' On Her

My R.I.P.P.E.D. coach has killer shoulders and arms. I'm insanely jealous.

I'm pretty sure she didn't get them from just doing R.I.P.P.E.D., but I want them and might even be willing to work to get them.

However, there's one problem.

I have chicken flaps. Just like my fourth grade teacher had. Karma is a bitch because I used to make fun of the skin that flapped in the breeze as she wrote on the chalkboard. And I'm paying for it now.

Some of my skin is leftover excess from when my arms were bigger. Some of it is due to the fact that there is still just too much of me on these bones. In either case, the whole situation forced me to wear a dress with sleeves to a wedding this weekend ... where half of the women chose to wear cocktail dresses. (Strappy, little one-shoulder numbers with sheer panels and crystals, no less. Made me feel like Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies.)

I just didn't want my flesh flapping around as I attempted The Cupid Shuffle.

No one wants to see that.

I want to look like I might be able to kick your ass if I wanted to.

I hope that's not wrong.