I’m Coming Out: A Story of Arms, Insecurities, and IDGAF Energy

For most of my life, I’ve avoided tank tops, sleeveless anything, and basically any outfit that dared to expose my arms. Why? Because they’re flabby. Because I have stretch marks that run from my shoulders down. Because I let my own insecurities write the rules for how I dressed.

I’ve missed out on so many cute tops because I was paralyzed—not by the actual opinions of others, but by the thought of what others might say or think. Thoughts. Not facts. Just imagined judgment that I gave way too much power.

Will people stare? Maybe. But you know what? Fuque em.

I’m 54 years old now. I’ve seen people lose limbs—people who would give anything just to have a body that functions, imperfections and all. These arms of mine? They cook. They clean. They hold loved ones. They lift groceries, carry burdens, and wipe tears. They’re not perfect, but they are powerful. And they are mine.

I’ve gone from being afraid to show my arms… to being ashamed of ever feeling that fear in the first place. I mean, how dare I let shame silence my joy? How dare I hide the very parts of me that have helped me survive?

So yeah. The summer of 2025 is getting all this flab, every stretch mark, and every ounce of this lil flabby but mighty body. Yes! I'm coming out people! My cute shirts deserve to be seen—and so do I.

Let’s normalize loving our bodies out loud, just as they are.