A Limerick – Becca’s Evolution:
Learning to Love the Dimples
There once was a girl full of fright,
For her thighs had some dimples in sight.
But she learned with delight,
It’s completely alright –
As most women have cellulite!
Ok, it’s a groaner (AI generated – so not quite a Longfellow). But it certainly hits the mark for yet another installment of one of my many self-shaming criticisms I’ve had over the years decades.
Although this experiment is still in its early days – now in my 9th week, I’m fully immersed in what’s surfacing for me! My assignment is a full year – 52 weeks of paying attention, week by week, to the constant stream of self-judgment about my body and my face.
And let me tell you, it’s eye-opening. My intention in sharing these cringe-worthy realizations is that by candidly recognizing and naming them, they’ll start to lose their grip, making space for more self-acceptance. I’ve been calling it my “body UNshaming.”
Seeing the Light in Cellulite 🔦
And so it is with cellulite (I pronounce the lite with a long “i”). I think back to all the years I agonized over how I looked in a bathing suit – or even a pair of shorts. In my early teens I was pudgy and already noticing the dimples forming on the backs of my thighs.
As I grew into my late teens and twenties, I learned that a deep tan was more than just a summer glow – it was a strategic disguise, a way to mask the dimpled skin and broken veins that crept in with time.
But the weight of how I looked wasn’t just about my skin – it was about the exhausting, never-ending effort to conceal, to present an “acceptable” version of myself, to silence the nagging voice of insecurity.  But, of course, as we know about carrying shame, hiding things doesn’t quiet insecurity – it just buries it deeper, letting it fester beneath the surface, always waiting to resurface the moment the disguise fades.
To this day, when I put on a swimsuit, I still catch that old reflex – the instinct to check my reflection from every angle, to see if the dimples are too noticeable, if my skin is smooth enough, if I should adjust the way I stand to make everything look more “acceptable.” It’s a habit ingrained from years of believing that my body needed to be managed, corrected, hidden. Often, I’d reach for a cover-up; thinking about this now – it was a familiar layer of protection against judgment, real or imagined. Actually, it was self-judgment.
But here’s the thing: the world keeps turning whether my thighs are dimpled or not. The waves don’t care. The sun doesn’t care. And more importantly, no one is scrutinizing me the way I’ve been conditioned to scrutinize myself. So instead of covering up, I’m learning to remind myself that my (aging) body, just as it is, deserves to be in the light. Besides, the only thing more exhausting than trying to hide is missing out on life because of the preoccupation with worries and self-shaming.
Shame can’t survive in the light đź’ˇ
What’s also helped me is by openly sharing my insecurity with my partner – naming my self-judgments and acknowledging that I’m working through them. He reminds me that he loves me as I am, that the things I obsess over don’t define me. And somehow, hearing those words – allowing someone else to reflect back a kinder perspective – helps loosen the grip of old insecurities. I just as easily do this with close friends. The point is we don’t have to navigate these feelings alone, because when the people who love us see wholeness where we see flaws, their support becomes a bridge toward letting go of shame.
However no one can release our shame for us – we have to do the work, acknowledge it, question it, and ultimately choose to let it go. Shame thrives in secrecy but when we bring it into the light its grip weakens. That doesn’t mean we have to do it alone. When we surround ourselves with (healthy) people who see us fully and remind us of our worth, the burden feels lighter.
These days I have to say that I love watching women on the beaches in Portugal wearing the skimpiest of skimpy – all bodies, all sizes. Like the young woman in this picture confidently exposing her dimple-laced thighs.
I admire that she isn’t hiding, shrinking, or apologizing for her body. She moves freely unbothered by the expectations that once held me captive. There’s a kind of quiet rebellion in her confidence a refusal to let outdated beauty standards dictate her joy. And watching women like her do this, I feel a shift – a reminder that the freedom I admire in others is also available to me.
With Love,
Becca
P.S. BTW, if you have cellulite, you’re in good company – dimpling is extremely common, especially for women. According to the Aesthetic Surgery Journal, 80-90% of females experience cellulite in their lifetime, mostly on the thighs, buttocks and hips.
P.S.S. If you have difficult emotions you’re grappling with – whether it’s self-shaming or any other difficult emotion (anxiety, depression, anger, sadness and such), think about joining me for my 7-week course that I’m teaching on the Shift Network. It’s called “The Power of Cannabis for Emotional Freedom.”
If you’ve ever felt like you’ve tried everything but still struggle with unruly emotions holding you back from living your most expansive life – then this course is for you!
Questions? Email me and I’ll answer you personally.
