I'll never forget the moment I caught sight of myself in the changing room mirror.
I was 43.
Pilates every week, drank my two litres of water like a religion, kept myself to takeaway once a week.
But ironically, after eleven summers of trying every scrub and clinic treatment going, I still couldn't fix the cellulite on the front and back of my thighs.
I'd tried everything in my arsenal.
Some provided temporary smoothing, but nothing addressed what was actually causing it.
I felt like a fraud.
How could I be doing everything right and still be the one in the sarong, the one watching the bags while everyone else got in the pool?