Embracing my Bellulite


I heard about it, I discounted it. I read about it, thought it was simply a scare tactic to sell a product. I thought about it, but naively figured I was immune. But now, I’ve got it. The sudden pooch around your middle highlighted with dimples that not only housed  my children for 9 months, but at one time rocked a bikini. Okay, not a bikini, a two piece. Let’s be honest, a tankini. Either way, it’s happened and as I stare in the mirror, the woman staring back looks strikingly like me,  except for the belly. It’s not just any belly, it’s a belly with cellulite, “bellulite.”

Hey God, it’s me Meno, I’d like my belly back.

Let’s be perfectly honest, we all know that no matter what we do, or how well we do it,  aging is as certain as ear hair and fading vision.  However, I can’t ever recall my mother, grandmother or her friends discussing their changing bodies. I think the only thing I ever heard discussed was about my school teacher with the arm bags. You know, when she writes on the chalkboard the skin beneath her arm wiggles like jello? Kids used to laugh. Mary Henderson, the smartest girl in our class once asked Mrs. Stinford (not real name) if she was like a Kangaroo and stored babies in there. Mrs. Stinford held that against Mary for the rest of the year. Perhaps Mary wasn’t so smart after all. The point is that I never heard anyone talk about changing bodies.

Shy of going under the knife, (of which I suffer a severe knife phobia), I can’t think of anything else that might get rid of my new found bellulite. I currently walk regularly, I eat pretty well, no fried stuff or processed stuff, and I dabble with strength training a couple of times a week to prevent osteoporosis. So what else am I WILLING to do?  Well, not much more than I’m doing now. Sure, I could go to some gym somewhere and sweat my arm bags off with 100 other people. Not desperate enough. Or I could hire a personal trainer to push me to the point of pain for perfection. I don’t need a new friend, I have plenty.  Or I could order those pills on TV that promises to rid me of belly fat. However, with my allergies, I’d be the one that would suffer some strange allergic reaction. I’d be puffier than when I started.

To be honest, the bellulite doesn’t thrill me, but neither does snow. The reality is that snow falls and makes things look pretty and tummies turn to cushions for kitties and small babies.  The silver lining.

Given that I’m not willing to do more than what I’m doing now, I choose to embrace my new found belly. Rub it from time to time, maybe thank it for doing such a great job for me during my pregnancies and crop top days.  But then, the most important thing to do is show my daughter and say, “Sister, love what you’ve got now, because one day you too will have a belly just like me! Check it out!”  A magical teaching moment. She will never be able to say I never told her.

So what about you? Bellulite? Do you love it? Do you ignore it? Or do you even care?


Here’s to great tummies everywhere!








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