He Knows How Fat You Are

I heard this "doctor" person on the radio the other day talking about cellulite. I put that parenthesis in, because I don't have his credentials in front of me and it could be a Dubious Doctor sort but regardless, they had him on talking about cellulite treatments.
Know what he said ?
He said they don't work.

That kind of made me laugh, because I always really thought they didn't work and I can't say why. I don't have some greater insight but he explained at length about how only diet and losing weight will actually reduce the amount of cellulite you carry but that even THAT might not reduce the dimpling of the cellulite that remains. Surgery (liposuction) is the only TRUE way to remove it short of dieting. It's hereditary, get over it girls.

But as he and the guy DJs were discussing it, one of the DJs says "You know, I just don't get why it's such a big deal." And the Doctor says,"I know. I never once looked at a woman naked for the first time and thought 'Hmmmm, no, too much cellulite...........'". And then they all traded tales of how they weren't a bit worried or bothered by it. That it wasn't something they SOUGHT OUT but that they really really really didn't care about it.

They pointed out - that it's almost 100% OUR PROBLEM as women. We hate it bcse we think they hate it. They in turn, can hardly give a fig.

This then, reminded me of a story - about 15 years old. Or more. Maybe 20. From back in the days when you had ANSWERING machines and only people who paid serious extra premiums on their phone bill had VOICE MAIL.

Once Upon a Time......at 4am.......my phone rang and my answering machine picked up.
I was alone, as my roommate worked 3rd shift. I thought it might be her so I woke up to listen.....it was a friend hundreds of miles away sobbing and sobbing and sobbing.......repeating "He LEFT! HE LEFT!!!"

So I jumped up and picked up the phone.......to have her recount this story.
Girl meets boy in bar. Boy buys girl drinks. One things leads to another. They go back to her place. Fooling around and nudity ensues........he goes to the bathroom. And then, she SWEARS - he left.
Now........there are a lot of explanations possible. He got sick and puked. She passed out drunk and time passed and she doesn't realize it........you get it. LOTS of possibilities. But she's sobbing on the phone, this girl I love like a sister, sobbing hysterically and asks me "Do you think he left because when I was naked he thought I was too fat?"

Don't laugh. She was serious.

In my heart, I wanted to reassure her that he knew EXACTLY how big her ass was and was not before he bought drink #1.. He KNEW the deal. He was INTO it or he wouldn't have spent a dime. No, some other explanation was more likely - no way did her suddenly lack of a swimsuit model body send him screaming into the streets. She isn't a beast anyway.

What is messed up is that we do this to ourselves, this mindless beating ourselves up over what we look like - so such an extent that a really explainable event (I'm going with he PUKED) becomes and indictment of our looks.

He knows how fat you are. And he doesn't care about your cellulite. If you care about it - put down the cookies. It's really that simple.