How to Deal with Stubborn Cellulite

Cellulite.

God, what a scourge on our bodies we love to hate. And we’ve hated it for roughly 150 years, after the word first appeared in a French medical dictionary and was defined as “the inflammation of the cell tissue or laminate tissue.”

In case you were wondering, no. That’s not an accurate definition.

Neither was its next known definition — which appeared in the French magazine Votre Beauté in 1933 — of "water, residues, toxins, fats, which form a mix against which we are rather poorly equipped." Understandably, readers wrote worried letters to the editor for years, concerned about this infection they were told no amount of exercise could cure. After one particularly curious reader wondered about the true nature of this “sickness” in 1935, the response was yet another inaccurate definition:

"It is degenerated flesh. It is a mix of water, of substances more similar to urine than to blood or water… It can be caused, for example, at the top of the thighs, by wearing a belt too tight which will hinder blood circulation."

Of course, now we know that cellulite is nothing more than fat, a definition that still does nothing for our vanity.

Even though our understanding of cellulite has evolved over the past century and a half, our desperation to be rid of it hasn’t. In fact, we’re likely more desperate than ever.

But. Why?

We’ve been told for generations that cellulite is hideous and should be destroyed at all costs. So we invest in lasers and heat and special tools and creams that do nothing, all in the hopes that they’ll reduce the dimples on our thighs even the slightest bit. (I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Votre Beauté was created by the founder of l'Oréal Group, a company with myriad brands who produce anti-cellulite creams.)

What cellulite actually is, though … is magic.

"It is a secondary sex characteristic, just like breasts," says Max Lafontan, a senior research fellow at Inserm, the French Institute of Health and Medical Research, and an expert in adipose tissues. Nearly 85 percent of women have cellulite and, according to Lafontan, it provides a useful stock of energy for pregnancy and breast-feeding.

And any part of a woman’s body that helps her to create life is to be worshipped. At least in my opinion.

If the magic of growing another human inside of you isn’t enough reason to justify cellulite in your eyes, consider this: women’s skin is connected to our muscles through vertical fibrous tissues. When even a small layer of fat settles between the two, it pushes the skin away, creating dimples where the tissues connect. Men’s skin is connected to their muscles through criss-crossing fibrous tissues, so they don’t dimple no matter how much fat they have.

So, to me and my cottage cheese ass, cellulite is a celebration of a woman’s body. Or, at the very least, it’s natural.

And if you’re not up to celebrating it, maybe you can start with accepting it. Speak love to it. That’s the best — and truthfully, only — way to deal with it.