I’ve had saddlebags for as long as I could remember, probably before high school. And even though I’ve maintained a healthy weight most of my life, those protruding humps on my outer thighs have clung to me like a burr on a shoelace.
Bernard never cared. I used to tell him it wasn’t normal for a lady’s outer thighs to extend like mine do, but he’d only smile and say, “Felicia, after 35 years, don’t you know I love you just the way you are.”
His kind words were of no help to my wardrobe. I’ve never been happy with my clothes. Pants have always ballooned my bulges. Luckily, my long white lab coat helped hide my thighs during the week, and weekends I always wore loose dresses or long baggy sweaters. Anything to disguise my disfigurement.
But last year I turned 68. I’m retired. The kids are all grown up. And for awhile now, I’ve been living on my own since Bernard passed away.
I thought to myself…WHAT AM I WAITING FOR?
The procedure was so easy it shouldn’t even be called a procedure. After the applicator was attached, my thigh went numb, and I relaxed and read one of those dumb romance novels while the machine worked its magic. (I’m a sucker for a cheesy love story.)
My results showed (or I should say “shrunk”) a month later. By month three my saddlebags had practically disappeared. I couldn’t believe it. I looked amazing!
Now, I wear yoga pants everywhere! My kids joke I should act my age, but I don’t care. I’m happy and so glad I did this.