Ladies, the swimwear industry really has us covered. (Yes, I can hear your sarcastic laughter.) If you have a problem, they have a solution. Cleavage challenged? There’s bust enhancing tops. Pouchy paunch? Try the tummy control panel option. Hips wide as a three lane highway? There’s cute hip minimizers available.
But for my particular “body issue” there seems to be no hope, short of a mumu. I have a condition I like to call “Fruit Salad Thighs.” You know, they’re chunky, lumpy, and an ambiguous shade of pink just like your grandma’s fruit salad.
Now, our family has a vacation planned in April which regrettably involves a beach, so about a month ago, I got desperate. You see, my gym membership has failed. (Am I supposed to actually go in and do something, or does waiting by the snack machine in the lobby count for something?) My Atkins diet failed. (Help! I’m a protein prisoner!) And in a few short months, I have to put on a bathing suit in the only place with skinnier people than stinking, granola-hiking Colorado. (In case you don’t know, Colorado always tops those ‘Fittest Places’ polls that mean people conduct in order to make people feel even worse about themselves.)
Anyway, back to my dilemma. I’d spotted ads for a cellulite-reducing product in several magazines, so I visited their website. I saw the fantastic pictures of smooth-bodied people and read the ticker commentary. One woman mentioned how she wished she’d taken before and after pictures. I snickered. Who in their right mind would willingly pose for before pictures of their problem areas?
Fast forward two months. I wish I had taken before and after pictures. As far as I can tell, the miracle product met its match with my fruit salad. I don’t see any difference. My thighs are the same mixture of pineapple chunks and marshmallow lumps. No smooth, gleaming, glorious limbs for me.
Which puts me right back where I started. At least I think it does. I don’t know for sure, because I didn't take before and after shots.
Annual Rocky Road Blog
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