This is a Letter to my Cellulite

Cellulite, things have to change. Before you were easy to forget, hiding back there hitching a ride on my thighs. For years, I let you hang with me, feel privileged, but now I am done with you. YOU have aged me. YOU make me look older. I have a YOUNG face but OLD thighs.

I can’t even remember when you and I first got together. You pretty much snaked your way into my life. I know your cousin “stretch marks” first came into my life when I was 10. I wasn’t even fat. I was the shortest and smallest kid in my class. When did YOU start poking around? Must have been high school during sophomore year.

Running to win. Running from cellulite. Just running.

I’ve been told by body builders that I can remove you with exercise and a “clean” diet. BUT something tells me when I see lean runners on the bike trail with your relatives congregating on the backs of their legs that you folks like to stick around.

After all these years, I want you gone, you ugly disfiguring monster. I’m tired of hiding you in jeans, knee length skirts and bermuda shorts. My legs want to see the sun. I want to wear bikini bottoms and feel good in public and love myself when I turn around and look in the mirror.

I’m so sick of your free loading, your grandstanding, and showing off. Even beautiful 6 foot tall Demi at work, who looks like a fitness model, has “your kind” embedded on her back legs. You nasty bitches. How dare you do that to that fit gal. I can see you don’t discriminate. You attack so many fit people. You attack healthy eaters along with the couch potatoes. You are cruel and abusive by putting your mark on so many good people.

But today it’s going to change with us. If I can’t get rid of ya’ll, I’ll get rid of most of you and I am determined to make it happen. Before I ignored your abuse, but now I’m so tired of you in my life. You have served no purpose.

I’m done with you.

Go cellulite go.