Weekly Message
Weekly Gems from Ronda Gates. |
Here in Oregon we are getting a hint that summer might arrive after all. So, like most of North America it's time to think about trading in baggy pants and bulky sweaters for leg-baring shorts and swimsuits. As we begin thinking of exposing parts of the body that haven't seen sun for months I'm hearing that seasonal grumbling by women about their "cellulite". Once again, pills, potions and scrubbing devices are being marketed to get rid of something that, for most, can't be eliminated. Cellulite is nothing more than body fat. It looks different from other fat because of the way your body stores it combined with the texture of your skin. I hang out with some very fit, very low in body fat women who have dimpling on the back of their thighs (although this cottage cheese like appearing fat can show up anywhere on your body). I also have some heavier friends whose thighs are smooth as silk. When I get a question about "cellulite" I respond with 2 questions.
If the answer to both is "yes" I have to dispense the bad news: This "residual" fat, still visible on fit folks, is inherited. If question one generated a "no" I suggest they start using that stored on the back of their legs energy TODAY. Although I love the sun and discovered years ago that tanning my legs made the dimples on the back of my fit thighs less noticeable, I've become wiser with age. I pile on the sunscreen when I'm in the sun--even on my legs, favoring self-tanning creams that give me almost the same results. I stay fit, eat smart and when I catch a glance at that part of my body that no longer has the firm skin of my youth I sigh and remind myself to be grateful for my good health. Bottom line? You can't scrub, lubricate, medicate or flush fat with water to make "cellulite" disappear. Moreover, exercising your hamstrings--the big muscle on the back of your thighs, won't spot reduce the fat. I don't know who to credit for the following quote which I've modified which reflects the wisdom of aging: "After worrying at thirty and forty what other people thought about us (and our thighs), we reached fifty and realized, happily, we no longer cared." As we get closer to sixty I'm convinced that no one (but me) was EVER thinking anything about my thighs after all. Have a great week. |
Weekly Messages | Lifestyles |
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