I basically called my mom for help. Except when I say mom, I mean an esthetician.
What would you do if your friend, unprovoked, gave you a cellulite-zapping tool?
That happened to me about a month ago when, out of nowhere, my friend said (and I’m paraphrasing for dramatic effect), “Hey, I have this new cellulite-smoothing machine. It’s for people with noticeable cellulite. But maybe you want it instead?”
Hmmmmm… I see how it is.
My reaction? Sweet!
After getting verbally mauled for decades by my Asian aunties who tell it like they see it, I’ve developed a pretty thick skin for harsh comments on my physical appearance. My mom has two sisters, and add to that three more aunts by marriage, and you can only imagine the barrage of nitpicking over my physical deficiencies I received over the years.
It all started with that leftover baby fat that I somehow carried on as a stowaway in my early elementary school days. Like a Joy Luck Club piñata bouncing around from one auntie criticism to the next auntie’s frank assessment of my round belly and chubby cheeks, I was there for the beating.
“If she’s not careful, she’s never going to lose that fat,” one aunt exclaimed to my mom.
“She’s young now, but what if she keeps this up? She’ll never get a husband like this,” another concluded.
For anyone with aunties--Asian or otherwise--who are anything like mine, you know that past the sharp verbal daggers thrown at you, beyond the harsh and unprovoked progress reports they are giving, there’s absolutely no harm meant in their words. They received this familial lynching as kids themselves, when their aunties let them have it; so it’s nothing on me, my round belly or my chubby cheeks.
If there is one thing that I’m thankful for, it’s that the verbal onslaught toughened me up. That, combined with having an awesome mother who never missed a chance to tell me I was her beautiful daughter, made me the thick-skinned, confident gal I am today.
Looking back, those relatively stinging comments could have had seriously negative repercussions on my psyche and self-confidence. But they didn’t.
Which brings me back to my “friend” who gave me that cellulite-zapping contraption. I didn’t think twice when she gave that to me. Only did I stop to think about the symbolism of her actions after another friend pointed it out (in fairness, my gift-giving friend is a beauty editor at a magazine, and she probably didn’t need another beauty product to add to her already full bathroom shelves).
The product I received is called the bliss fatgirlslim lean machine. The product promises to smooth, firm and tighten your cellulite, along with good dieting and regular exercising. Not a bad deal for only $145.
I had high hopes for this awkwardly named product (I’m guessing it’s a play off the British DJ’s name?). Looking at things at an unbiased level, I’d like to say I have the average amount of cellulite. If I were ever lined up with 10 other individuals and filed based on cellulite storage, I’d probably land smack dab in the middle of that lineup. So now the idea is after using fatgirlslim, I might move to a better spot in the lineup.
I’ve used it only once. So what’s my early assessment of the product? It’s … different. Not a bad different, but a, well, different different. Five quick thoughts:
- First, you put on a smoothing cream so the lean machine can better glide against your skin.
- TIP: Don’t be stingy with that cream! If you don’t put enough of it on, the machine gets caught on your skin.
- As you roll the machine against your recently creamed skin, it lifts your skin as it moves along, smoothing out the appearance of cellulite.
- Does it hurt? Not really. Is it uncomfortable? Yes.
- Have you ever put your hand against a vacuum hose while it’s sucking up air? That’s pretty much the feeling you’ll get when using this fatgirlslim lean machine.
Despite the uncomfortable feeling I get while using it, I’m going to give it another go. After all, I’d never hear the end of it if my aunties saw my cellulite.
Have you used this? Do you feel equally as awkward as I do? Or maybe you have worse auntie stories than I do (I hope not!).