I spent the early days of 2014 on holiday, on the west coast of Australia. It was perfect weather, and we spent most of our time either in the pool or at the beach.
But I was rarely thinking about how lucky we were to have such gorgeous weather. I wasn’t really focused on the cider, or the laughs, or the beach volleyball, or the inflatable pool toys we brought along. I paid little attention to how beautifully clear the water of the ocean was, or how fun it was to have such a big group of friends in one place.
I mostly thought about my thighs. More specifically – the cellulite on the back of my thighs.
It’s covered up when I wear shorts and dresses and skirts, but bikinis? No chance. Cellulite on parade for everyone to see. And I hate it. Passionately.
It’s genetic cellulite. The kind that won’t bugger off, regardless of how much you exercise or how little body fat you have. I’ve tried firming creams and diets. I’ve tried losing weight and exercising like a maniac. I tried giving up sugar (apparently that zaps your cellulite). I even legitimately looked into liposuction with a girlfriend of mine. I KNOW.
Nothing worked. So for my summer holiday, I specifically invested in floaty kaftans that went down past my bum, and wore them everywhere. I walked behind people rather than in front of them when wearing my bikini. I was first in the pool – hard to see cellulite when in the water – and last out. I put shorts on when it was time to play beach volleyball.