Bingo wings. Yes we have laughed at old ladies, screaming 88 as their underarms wobble at the excitement at shouting bingo for decades! However, bingo wings are not as funny when they are happening on an arm near you.
One minute, you are minding your own slowly ageing business, as your muscles lose their tone and your skin loses its mojo…and the next, you are wondering – my God! How did those bingo wings get there?
Flappy arm muscles a-go-go
I am certain EVERYBODY over 40 ends up with bingo wings and I’m now convinced myself this is a mean side effect of being in your 4th decade along with all the other things that mother nature starts bestowing on you like saggy boobs, wrinkly tummies and fart-filled bottoms. But when did flappy arms muscle work their way into their equation?
We were only just getting used to bum wiggle, and the boob wiggle when all we are doing is merely brushing our teeth but now we have to deal with bingo arm wiggle too!
Banishing bingo arms? – bah!
But here’s the real annoyance. Not only have I discovered that no matter how furiously I inflict bingo wing exercises on my traitor arms following an army of idiots on You Tube who tell me THIS WILL BANISH YOUR BINGO WINGS FOREVER (yeah right!) that not only is there extreme wobbly business happening, but my underarm skin now has an incredible propensity to stretch way beyond what should be physically normal – akin to the sort of thing you’d find only on a trending TikTok effect.
Time to embrace?
The thing is, I know that bingo wings are just another part of my body, still, the double chubble makes me feel uneasy at their sight. The little voice in my head which subscribes to the body confidence movement says, embrace them! Why not let your bingo wings take flight and let them carry you through the window towards the dazzling light of your 4th decade?!
Or perhaps we can try another tactic which is: if 40 is the new 30, then denial is the new acceptance?
Body faciasm at its best
But the truth comes down to this: There no end to the physical mockery we keep being dealt in this game of weird body changes. And as much as I desperately want to reject the tyranny of bingo wings and raise my arms high and proud like a raver in the place then stick two fingers in the face of perfectionism, somehow my inner dialogue is cruelly supporting this body-fascism. I didn’t sign up for it, it’s just the way my monkey mind has been conditioned which tells me my bingo wings flapping in the sun is not a good look.
Ultimately, deep down I live in fear of the next part of my body misbehaving which it undeniably will do, and that it is secretly – or not so secretly – signifying the beginning of the end.
Do you suffer from bingo wings? Have they got worse since you hit 40? And please, does anyone know a way of getting rid of them that doesn’t involve frantically pumping your poor arms up and down a thousand times a day (sounds like a recipe for RSI if ever I heard one if you ask me!) which quite frankly nobody has the time for anyway.
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Photo by Trevin Rudy on Unsplash, Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash, Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels