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Standing in the dressing room at Marshall’s the other day I tried on the cutest little top.
Looking into the dressing room mirror I was horrified to see that the stark florescent lights illuminated a small patch of dimpled skin on both of my biceps. Years ago, I decided to accept gracefully the cellulite that took up residency on my hind quarters. I even managed to be a gracious host as it has slowly made its journey south to my upper thighs over the past few years as I careened furiously toward fifty. But I have absolutely no intention whatsoever of watching that mess flap around on my arms while I’m swinging my golf clubs all summer long! I immediately went and bought the strongest anti-cellulite serum I could find.
