We’ve known each other quite a while now, and I can’t say it’s been all bad. You’ve provided a soft place for a lover or a child to rest his head. You give a little verve to my curve. Hell, I even made a career out of you when I got on the women’s body-image platform with the bodyBODY Project.
But now I’m afraid we’re through. I’ve tried negotiating with you. I did the no-carb thing for a month or so, only to catapult off the wagon into a vat of tiny dark chocolates when I noticed that you still weren’t going away. I certainly don’t want to replace my wardrobe — it’s hard enough as it is to get me out of the fluffy pink soy/bamboo robe I got for Christmas.
I’ve bested you before, and I thought maybe you’d leave for good. Remember the winter of 1990-91, when we were in Thailand and swam every day for three months in the bluest of waters, and ate only the simple, local, healthy food that was available? Or how about when my ex in Seattle cheated on me, and then moved RIGHT NEXT DOOR and I could see into his kitchen? Heh heh, dropped two sizes on that one!!! Still, you sneaked back, determined. Stubborn willful bitch that you are.
In the last few months, I’ve tried the flu. I’ve tried falling in love, I’ve tried therapy and I’ve tried the no carb thing, which, frankly, makes anyone a cranky motherfucker. Still, you wait, nourished by the cheese I so adore, the crusty breads and, yes, the occasional muffin for breakfast. (It’s called “cake” when you eat it any other time of day, by the way.)
So I offer you a truce. You go away this summer and let me enjoy those two super sexycool bikinis I bought on sale. The first bikinis I’ve purchased in more than five years! And maybe I’ll let you visit during the winter holidays. You can have all the turkey and mashed potatoes and Aunt Ann’s pies you can handle. Huh? What do you say?
Should you decide not to accept this offer, I will be forced to do the unthinkable. MasterCleanse. And neither of us want that.
So please, go back to whence you came. I don’t even care if you go there. Just go somewhere else. It’s for the best.
Ha ha! I want mine to go away too. But it seems to like it here.
YOu know—I really want to be thin…and I can do it…If I pretty much starve myself. I keep imagining the beauty that exists underneath the suet. It IS there. And I want to liberate it.
Your muffin top, my hanging belly. Good luck, all. (I can so eat so little and lose weight so fast. But my mental health suffers when I don’t get enough carbs, calories, flavor.)
So you took the words right out of my mouth with the muffin is cake comment.
It should be noted that this is barely a blemish on a rocking 40licious bod, m’dear. Let’s have some perspective.
I watched a terrible film last night with Diane Keaton and Mandy Moore, in which they played women who love cake and yet are both suspiciously muffin top free…
And I have to say that those of us with a little extra squish feel really really really really (I meant it – *really*) good to hug. What’s up with that? Girls who “look good” are all pokey and generally give bad hugs (calm down, not all of them, but a lot of them, at least in my experience).
And yet, I want to get rid of mine too. I think your offer is more than fair – especially considering that we really don’t have a chubbins-hiding season here. Half a year of not spilling out over one’s waistline seems like a very reasonable compromise…
Try having a baby, or better yet, two! Those cute little muffin tops have a way of sneaking into Costco sized ones, leaving you wondering why your waistbands are getting lower and lower.
Try having a baby? Well I have, and I guess I will again! Thanks for the suggestion, fortymama, you always inspire me!
“Wiggle your Jiggle” that’s been my motto for a week — I woke up with that inspiration and I think it should be a class for those of us with wonderful muffin tops.
I do think of the commitment and determination needed for a toned body and then … I purchase loose flowing shirts.
Marie Osmond’s Mom advised her to stay out of your body — don’t get involved in your head with your body — I can see that advice.
You’re beautiful cousin — love you Elizabeth