So I have cellulite now. Like that’s a thing. And since I have yet to graduate from watching my exercise DVDs to actively participating in the Workout Industrial Complex this thing ain’t going away anytime soon. So I’m figuring out how to deal.
The dimples on my thighs totally caught me unawares whilst I was out enjoying life like a normal 30-something with a penchant for the finer things like $9.99 wine and all the cheese. A few years ago my mother, god bless her unintentionally hyper-critical little heart, mentioned something about my legs not being as “shapely” as they once were, but since she’s getting older and less filtered by the millisecond I ignored it like I do most of her Mommy Tourettes.
The first time I had to take a hard look at my butt’s surplus was this summer at my best friend’s wedding. During the quickie rehearsal right before the ceremony one of the other bride’s maids warned the rest of us, “LADIES, remember to relax your cheeks. Don’t clench! Otherwise your ass dimples will show.”
Dimples? I didn’t have no stinking dimples! Or did I? One butt naked examination in a full-length mirror would confirm that, yes, I had entered the fold.
My new favorite toy
Part of me sort was sort of proud of the annoying puckering on my lady parts. Because cellulite, in some strange and twisted way, is something of a rite of passage for a lot of women. I’ve routinely been left out of a lot of grown-up conversations about thighs that kiss, booties that jiggle, and boobies that sag because my body has gone from super skinny to sorta skinny to “How are you still skinny?”
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been Googling “cellulite” “get” “rid” “now!!!” every morning in the hopes that someone bottled up cardio the night before. Still, it’s like a new level of membership in the VIP “You have a vagina” club.
From what I’ve gathered, this stuff is either genetic, diet-based or the product of too much lying down. And after scrolling through somewhat helpful article after totally useless article on the never-ending subject of cellulite-busting, the last line is always some variation of the sentence “none of these methods have been scientifically proven.” It’s like a mirage.
Because I’m cheap and a sucker for the buzz words “natural” and “ancient” and “practice,” I’ve been giving “skin brushing” a try for the last week. So far the results have varied from “This is so dumb” to “Hmmm.”
We’ll see. I’m open to anything, including some crazy grapefruit diet I saw a celebrity tweet about. And that’s when I knew that I was really in the club.