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The Scrapes on My Car
By Luna Lark
Scarlett Johansson is one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood—and she has cellulite. Most women do. Miss Scarlett is human, who knew? And real, unadulterated, pre-Photoshop human flesh is beautiful because it is authentic and it is authentic because it is flawed. Life experience helps you recognize the beauty of a blemish. One of my favorite celebrations of cellulite came from Go Kaleo on March 6:
See, the media isn't very grown-up. And as much as I like Gerber baby food (truth) and Hello Kitty (also truth), I am grateful to be a grown-up. Adulthood has allowed me to gain all sorts of insights. That's why I'm not too bummed out about my scratched up car.
Once, I, too, abhorred cellulite. I cringed at the sight of myself in shorts and short skirts. That was before I accepted that no matter how much I exercised, I'd probably always have cellulite. Why? Because I'm a human and female humans in particular can't expect a bunch of fancy creams to get rid of all their dimples. These dimples are here to stay, just like the scratches on my car. I shouldn't complain, either, because those dimples remind me of my body's healthy fat content, fat that keeps me warm when it's cold and alive when I'm sick.
My car has scratches because I actually drive it. It doesn't loaf about all day. I work that baby. In four months, I've put about 7,000 miles on it and it's nowhere near being put out to pasture. I usually drive it somewhere in the morning and somewhere in the evening and then take it for a trip on the weekend. Sometimes I even drive it in my dreams. This car has whisked me away to beaches and mountains and cities alike.
With all that driving, it's no shock that I've already gotten a few pebbles in its horseshoes, so to speak. Once, on a steamy June evening, I scraped the side of it on a tombstone that dated back to the 1800s. I admit that my immediate reaction was to pity the car and only afterwards inspect the tombstone for damage. Instead of screaming, “Stellaaaaa!”, I was screaming “Historyyyyy!” (All's well in the tombstone department. I don't think a zombie's going to chase after me any time soon. At least not for this minor infraction.)
The first month I owned my car, I wanted to keep it pristine. I even made a promise to myself. Then I snapped that promise's neck. And now my car has cellulite. But, hey, so does Scarlett Johansson. Both are beautiful.