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Celebrating Cellulite

Lumps and bumps. Rippling. Dimples. Whatever you want to call it, we're all talking about the same thing: Cellulite. The herniation of subcutaneous fat within fibrous connective tissue that manifests as skin dimpling-something that 80%-90% have upon their bodies. Be it personal trainers, actresses, the girl next door or even your favourite Instagram influencer, it exists for the large majority of us. So why does it still feel so taboo? Why are we still ashamed of it?


After photos of Molly-Mae on holiday circulated the world of social media last week, I couldn't help but feel such a strong surge of emotions. I immediately felt repulsed by the horrific and ignorant Daily Mail comments. Then I felt confused, because the photos of her body were still incredible. But thirdly, I began to feel a sense of reassurance and positivity. Because, Molly-Mae, a woman who thrived on Love Island and is nothing short of the 'perfect Instagram model', has a normal body like me. The cellulite exists, not every inch of her stomach is toned. She isn't Facetuned and filtered (pardon the pun) in real life. She's normal.

I have noticed cellulite on my body since I was about 15. Admittedly, it never phased me in the beginning: I was quite a slim girl growing up so it was just a case of looking at my legs a bit longe than usual in the morning then that would be it. However, six years have passed and of course I have gained weight, gained bigger hips and to be honest, my ass has doubled in size. *spoilers for the clueless out there: you can't achieve a GENUINE big ass without cellulite*.

I will be honest and say it is what I am most self-conscious of. Unless I'm in a club or it's dark out, I won't feel comfortable wearing clothes that sit above the knee. Cute denim shorts? Pretty short summer dresses? In my DREAMS. I went from being obsessed with the hot weather to pretty much dreading it: hiding away in my joggers and jeans felt unbearable in the summer months...but so did showing the world my cellulite.


Sound familiar? I really hope it doesn't, but in the same breathe I also acknowledge that I am not the only female who feels this way about her cellulite. But why?? For example, I personally work out five days a week, have lost a bunch of weight since being at my heaviest about 18 months ago, and I eat a reasonably healthy diet. So if I'm doing everything right and looking after my body, is cellulite really just inevitable? So many times I get close to accepting this reality and begin accepting the dimples and ripples of my skin, but alas, a few scrolls on my phone later and I'm sucked into the hell hole that is Instagram compare and contrast. I could eat better. I could work out harder. I could look like that.


But that isn't really reality, is it? No woman walks around with a facetuned, filtered body that took 10 mins to achieve the perfect angle. And whilst a lot of us are horrifically guilty of comparing ourselves to others online, we can also be guilty of being the criminal too. On my holiday last year, I uploaded a photo feeeellinnnggg myself in my bikini one day, but the next evening I refused to go out wearing shorts because of how my legs looked. Without even really realising, I too was adding to this false reality Instagram just loves to portray. What we waste time comparing ourselves to on social media IS NOT real life. No matter if it's your favourite influencer or a girl from school whose body you admire, there is more than meets the Instagram eye.

It is 2020. The wildest year I think the majority of us have ever seen. If we can live through a bloody pandemic, we can start normalising a bit of cellulite too. And don't let it stop there. Hip dips, stretch marks, loose skin. Too many years have been spent with girls, me included, not buying the shorts and crying over a skirt because their skin doesn't reflect a Facetuned dream. If the past few months have taught me anything, it's that life it too short and God only knows what's round the corner. Get your legs out, get your stomach out, feel sexy and empowered in your cropped clothes.


Because no one really gives a shit, and if they do? I promise, they're not worth an ounce of your time.



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