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Growing up I never saw cellulite on women. So it felt weird, strange and abnormal to have it develop on the backs of my thighs when I was a teenager. ⁣

I adopted a tomboy look, not for preference, but so that I could wear board shorts instead of bikini bottoms. ⁣

I would do hundreds of squats a day, because some guy commented that if I just did more of them, I’d be free of them. ⁣

I walked backwards out of rooms that my husband was in for fear that he would think less of me. ⁣

I wore long pants in the summer just telling everyone I hated shorts. ⁣

I was hiding. ⁣
Because I didn’t know that it was normal, let alone that there were others like me. ⁣

What changed? ⁣

You did. ⁣
We did. ⁣

The saturation of images of another side, once “mainstream media” became ours, as one by one we showed up. ⁣
Perhaps in resistance, ⁣
perhaps in joy, ⁣
perhaps without needing it to be a message or statement at all. ⁣

It came with a deeper understanding and gratitude. ⁣
The shedding of shame each time I saw it. ⁣
Eventually to stop really seeing it at all. ⁣

I still have my moments when I drop the towel, feeling like eyes must be staring and judging and fearful that I’ve made myself less attractive in that moment. ⁣

That is my first thought. ⁣

But I’ve been taught and have learned that it’s not the first thoughts that matter, it’s the second ones. ⁣

The ones that keep you walking forward. ⁣
As you choose to exist in your body and your skin. ⁣

We deserve that, you know. ⁣
I want us to have that.

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