Mrs Anderson's Arms

I was in the shower, lathering up my outstretched arm, when I noticed a major bump on my arm. “Dang, girl, you got an impressive bicep on you!” I said to no one in particular. I shook my arm a bit, and the bump began to undulate, vibrate, and make like Jello. The bump wasn’t a bicep at all, but a reverse bicep. OMG! I suddenly had my fifth grade teacher’s under arms. Mrs. Anderson was a portly woman, with the most wonderful, jiggly underarms. They fascinated me. When she pointed to call on someone, those great hams had a life of their own. I would have given an entire year’s salary for five minutes alone in a room with Mrs. Anderson’s underarms (if I’d had a full time job at age 11). I would smoosh them, bobble them, play Slinky with them, and basically have my way with them. She also had a double chin that changed shapes as she moved her head up and down. I didn’t want anything to do with the chins. They intrigued me in a can’t-look-away-from-a-car-accident kind of way. That area of Mrs. Anderson reminded me of a pelican. I used to wonder if a fish would come flying out when she opened her mouth. So now, more than 47 years later, my thoughts turn back to Mrs. Anderson. If she’s looking for her underarms, tell her I got ‘em. Fortunately, the chins haven’t found me... yet.