Cellulite and its importance in life

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A short encounter.

Yesterday, I went for a swim. The whole mission was obviously not my idea. Like a proper old maid, I'm usually quite reluctant to accept spontaneous invitations, especially those issued after 7 pm, on Saturday evening. This time, however, I couldn't resist and succumbed, yet again, to Olive's sweet little charms. So, off we went to one of those sanatorium swimming pools, open to the public and in-house patients. The swim was ok. Olive was loud - successfully scared away one grumpy gentleman. But that's not what I want to talk about.

As I positioned my thighs against two nozzles releasing bubbles to massage my imagined cellulite, a middle-aged, smiling woman sat next to me. To break the ice (or the uncomfortable silence), I spat out something along the lines, 'I'm here to combat the fat in my ass.' She smiled and responded, 'no one really notices staff like that apart from us, girls. Let's just enjoy life instead of dreading cellulite.' She went on about how together with her parents, who died only a few months ago, she would visit the complex every year, eat ice cream, and ride a bike. We parted our ways with a short 'goodbye.'

It sounds trivial to say that death changes our perspective, forces us to prioritize.  Quite the opposite of trivial, though, is smiling and staying positive when revisiting good old (or not so good) times. I stopped caring about the fat after that. 


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