Chips in My Armpits

                Being that I’m a mom of four kids who have all gone through those toddler years when they say the most awkward things, I should’ve gotten used to it by now- the comments about my bumpy thighs, the counting of my moles, the giggling and jiggling of my arm fat, telling me my nostrils are shaped like a butterfly . . .  In the repertoire of my children, I have the following exclamations said around strangers:

                “Ooh!  Mom!  THAT MAN IS OLD!”

                “Look at that waiter’s moustache!  HAHAHA!  He looks like MARIO!  HAHAHA!  Bye Bye Mister Moustache Man!”

                I’ve had one kid rush up to a Goth teenager wearing all black and chains, hair spiked up a foot high, and just point at him and laugh at him LOUDLY.  That was the first and only time I pretended like I didn’t know English and told my kid in broken Korean to beat it.

                I should be used to these moments.  They really are common.  But this time, my little 3 year old Josiah zinged me pretty bad.

    I was kicking back in his bed with my arms around my head, and he came up and peered really closely at my armpits.              

                “Mommy, dat chips?” he asked inquisitively, looking at my armpits.

                Why, yes, Josiah.  Mommy keeps chips in her armpits so that she can eat them when she’s hungry.  It’s really unfortunate that toddlers don’t get sarcasm. 

                “I ain’t got no chips in my armpits,” I said with my best Major Payne accent.  Of course the Wayan reference flew over his head.  Toddlers miss out on a lot of life.

                  I sort of filed this conversation away in my weird files and didn’t think much of it, until about two weeks later.

                  I was kicking back in his room again in the same exact position, with my arms behind my head.

                “Mommy,” he came curiously peering into my armpit again, “Is dat chip?”

                “No. It’s. Not. A. Chip.”  I said with my teeth gritted.  Just a tad more curt this time.

                Why did he think my armpit looked like a chip?  It was time to use a mirror to study and scrutinize.  I probed and pondered.  I inspected and investigated. I criticized. 

   I concluded . . .

                . . . that from certain angles and certain lighting, my armpits can look like Mission Tortilla chips.

                I’m just as insecure as the next girl, if not more so due to years of elementary school dressed up in jumbo-sized elastic pants. (Thanks Mom.)  But I think we spend way too much time feeling insecure, instead of giving thanks to God for all the eccentricities that make you “you”.  You’re not socially inept, you’re just a great observer.  You don't have a junky car, it just has character.  You’re not perpetually late, you’re just Korean.  See how easy this is? 

                Send me $20 and a list of your insecurities, and I’ll send you a new list that will make you happy, secure, and maybe even a little bit conceited.  I’ve spent my entire marriage convincing my husband that he’s incredibly lucky that I have such a flat nose, because I’m the only woman he can kiss flat on, without any nose interference.

 But every once in a while, I get an insecurity that stumps me; how do you view in a positive light the fact that your armpits should be served at the next Super Bowl game party right next to the guacamole?  Is this why waiters at El Torito feel that they don't need to refill my chip bowl?

Both Snoopy and Walter Mitty daydream themselves into world class heroes; and with their help, I recovered:  there at the mall would be a poor chip vendor fretting about his starving children because no one was buying chips from him, and after the dramatic music, Chip Girl would bound in!  I’d lift up my arms and KA-CHING! KA-CHING!  Scores of people would walk towards the vendor with zombie spirals in their eyes, with this urgent, unexplained desire to buy  chips. 

"Thank you Chip Girl!" the poor chip vendor and his starving children would cry, drowning in money.

               

*ASIDE:  This post has gotten me wondering if in fact I can eat chips out of my armpits. I checked, and I cannot.  I could do it if my neck was a tad bit longer and my shoulders were a bit narrower.  I bet Gwyneth Paltrow could eat chips out of her armpits.