The Cellulite Myth by Ashley Black

Author:Ashley Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Post Hill Press®

Laura Detering

October 30

HOPELESS . . . is one word that described me just 2.5 months ago. At 33 years of age, I had found myself hating my body more and more. Not just hating my physical appearance, but hating how my body was failing me. With 2 young daughters, I want to be active and I do not want to teach them to hate themselves, but, alas, I feel as though I may have been failing them, too. Hopeless failure. Two words that have haunted me. How did I get to my own pit of despair?

I have always been super active. I was a competitive figure skater for 10 years, played competitive volleyball for 7 years, dancer through the present (scratch that . . . I used to tear it up on the dance floor and now when I dance I pay for it for days), I did cardio for days, kickboxing, running, yoga, pilates, tae bo, P90X, etc. I can remember in junior high, compacting bones in my wrist while playing volleyball. I can recall falling hundreds of times in ice skating while trying to land my axel or my double salchow. I can remember even more distinctly my wrists during volleyball season swelling to the size of baseballs and bursitis flare ups in my elbows and continuing to play because my team needed me (more like I wouldn’t let anything stop me). That was, until at the age of 18, my back would no longer let me enjoy life. I don’t remember a single event causing the injury, but rather slowly I was getting worse. I couldn’t sleep, stand for too long, sit for too long, without muscles spasming, spine twisting to the point where I was inches shorter on one side versus the other. Tons of tests later, they could not figure out why my lower spine was compressing. Ultrasounds identified small lumps on my low back as “injured tissue” that felt like a knife was stabbing me in the back at the slightest touch. Almost a year of physical therapy and chiropractic appointments got me much better, but from that point on, it was downhill and I never got back to where I was.

Fast forward to 31 years of age. At this time, I had a 4 year old, a rainbow baby, and an infant. I love my children beyond measure, but let’s be real . . . this 3rd pregnancy did a number on me! The charlie horses in my hips from 3 months into the pregnancy were agony. A colicky baby that nursed every 1-1.5 hours 24/7 for SIXTEEN weeks took its toll on my upper body. My SI joint did not appreciate any motion besides walking or simple, weight training exercises . . . elliptical, seated bike, stairs? Forget it. At the slightest whim, I would sprain a finger . . . a finger! My neck, due to a car accident within a year of having my last baby, would not allow me to sleep in any position besides my left side (which further causes issues in my body).

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