Cellulite

The Sunday Outlook section of The Washington Post invited 10 writers to nominate
one "thing" to get rid of. 

They invited readers to vote, as well as send in their own suggestions for next weekend's paper. 

Unfortunately, when I went to the suggested page online,
     there was no such evidence of a place to vote, nor to send my suggestion. 

So, I am posting my story on my blog, instead.

My comical choice about what to throw out. 

Enjoy!

CELLULITE

I don’t remember how or when it snuck into my life.

I do, however, remember when I first noticed it. 

I was in my early twenties. 

Someone had taken a picture of me in my bathing suit, from “behind”. 

When I saw the photo, it didn’t make sense. 

Who WAS that in the photo? ? ? 

And, wearing MY BATHING SUIT ! ! !   

Someone with Orange Peel Syndrome.

Someone with Cottage Cheese "Skin".

Someone with (my personal favorite) dermopanniculosis deformans. 

In other words,

     someone with . . . . . . . . . . . .  CELLULITE ! ! ! 

 Up until that moment, I was PRET-TY happy with myself.

I could walk up and down a beach with confidence, in my bikini.

After that photo, however, I became an expert on how to hide my backside. 

I was sly and clever, using bathing suit wraps, or shorts;

     a towel, or a jacket tied around my waist.   

Anything to hide THE RIPPLE.

  

And, I’m not talking potato chips, although, I can see the relationship. 

  Years later, I moved on to a built-in skirt bottom. 

YES I DID.

     They were stylish.

YES THEY WERE.

Not like the ones “our moms used to wear”. 

I may even be so bold as to say that I started a new trend.

Other moms at the pool asked me where I purchased my suit. 

And soon, I started seeing others.    

      Now that I’m in my forties,

my cellulite does not bother me nearly as much as my love handles (or muffin top). 

I’d like to throw them BOTH out, along with my sagging arms. 

Oh well. 

At least my sense of humor is still intact.

I think I will hold on to that, if you don’t mind.