The other day I was having a chat with Mrs PM about the trauma of being a woman. She was arguing that women have it bad; I mean women have it really bad. Women have far too many problems and the fact that I don’t understand women stems from the fact that I don’t understand women’s problems.
“Take cellulite, for example. Do you know what it is?”
“Of course,” I replied. “It’s that stuff you put wallpaper up with isn’t it? Why is that a problem?”
“That’s POLYCELL you moron!!” she snarled before leaving the room in utter disgust to search for a blunt instrument to wallop me with.
To be fair, I was trying to lighten the mood because whenever we discuss the differences between men and women, in particular the problems that women have, Mrs PM’s starts to lose her temper.
However, I do have a genuine confession to make: I had never heard of cellulite until some time in the 90’s (when I was in my thirties!!!). I was watching a TV programme that was making fun of American women’s obsession with beauty. Cellulite was mentioned but they never actually defined it. And for an embarrassing period afterwards I did get “polycell” and “cellulite” mixed up:
“I’ll pop off to the DIY shop to get some cellulite,” I once said, before receiving a violent slap.
And then, all of a sudden, I started seeing headlines in moronic tabloids stating that famous female celebrities had massive cellulite problems, together with photos of them on a beach taken by some low-life paparazzi armed with a telephoto lens.
To me, they still looked lovely. Only a complete imbecile would think less of them for having a little cellulite.
So now I really know what cellulite is. To consolidate my knowledge I’ve looked it up. Guys, I’m helping you out here – it is a condition in women where the skin on the legs and bum become “dimpled”. I’ve seen it described as “orange peel skin” or “mattress” skin.
And what’s more – this condition is almost exclusive to women – which means that I will never ever get it. Not ever.
The purpose of this post is not to be sexist or to make fun of women who might suffer from this condition. If anything, it is to bring this to the attention of any men who don’t know what it is (just like me).
So guys – do not ever mention cellulite unless you have to. It is best to feign ignorance though beneficial in some ways to know about it.
As for any ladies who may read this post: please examine your urge to travel to Manchester armed with a nasty torture instrument to drive home to me exactly what cellulite is. I am simply trying my best to educate ignorant men (and they don’t come more ignorant than me). Also, help is at hand because, in my research about cellulite, I have managed to stumble across techniques for reducing it:
(1) Drink plenty of water.
(2) Do some exercise.
(3) Reduce fat, sugar and calorie intake.
(4) Take vitamins and antioxidants (whatever they are)
(5) Try body brushing (what the hell is that??)
(6) Embrace the body you have.
Now none of these points come from me so please don’t blame me if body brushing tears your skin to tatters (personally I wouldn’t try that – my imagination is running amok just thinking about it). The picture at the start of the post is apparently a body brush!
To me the above points are necessary anyway for a healthy life and I’m sure that lots of women already follow the advice.
The fact that I lived well over thirty years of my life in blissful ignorance must surely demonstrate that men don’t really care whether women have a cellulite problem or not. From my own perspective, it really doesn’t matter one iota. Men just don’t care; most, like me, don’t even notice.
Finally, I’ve decided to write a few more posts in the future about how both men and women suffer. I will use my own experience for the male side and ask Mrs PM about female problems. Mind you, regular readers of this blog may already know that I suffer from more than my fair share of male problems – I have so many to choose from (mad hair, embarrassing beard growth, an ever-increasing beer gut, rampant ugliness – to describe just a few).
I only hope that Mrs PM doesn’t assume that I am a complete and utter moron as I ask her questions. If I stop posting suddenly for three weeks or so, you can assume that I have gone too far with MRs PM and that I am in traction in the Manchester Royal Infirmary. Should that happen, you can visit me if you like – though if you are female I will insist on having a metal detector at the entrance of the ward in case you decide to bring any nasty torture tools to remind me about cellulite.
