Love That Muffin Top

I have a muffin top. OK, I'm lying. It's actually more like a cake top. You know how when you make a cake, sometimes it puffs up over the pan and you have this edge that kinda sticks out and you don't really know what to do with it when you frost the cake 'cause it would make the cake uneven, so you just eat it? Yes, you do. I know you do. Don't lie to me. I know I'm on a diet and supposed to be working on losing the cake top and thanks for reminding me of that, you are such a good friend.

Anyway, I have one. And if I wear pants that zip up snugly, like jeans, it sort of...protrudes over the waistband. Even with elastic jeans. There is some protrusion. But here's what is really painful. If you wear an under wire bra and sit in a chair that is sorta just the right angle, you can create a cake top that is not only protruding, but is actually smushed between the waistband of your jeans and the under wire of your bra. The two ungiving surfaces try unsuccessfully to meet in the middle but are deterred by the roll of above mentioned flesh.This is not pleasant. This is roughly akin to the pain you feel when you ram your toe into the coffee table as you are walking across the room, thinking yes, there is plenty of room between my toe and that coffee table. But there is not. And pain results. It's like that - only continuous.

If you are at work, there is nothing you can do. You just readjust and readjust and try to recline a little more or sit forward a little more which helps a little until you get in just that right position where smushing ensues and...ow. So, really the only thing to do is stand up because the cake top sucks back in somewhat when you are standing so you find work you can do standing up like shelving books but when you run out of books, at some point, you have to sit back down. But you endure.

And then when you get home and sit in your chair with a good book, you again have smushed cake top.

This is why, if someone were to pop into my home unexpectedly, they would observe me wrenching my bra off through the bottom of my top (yes, I have many unknown talents), undoing the zipper of my jeans and sighing in relief.

Or if I have a burst of energy, changing my jeans to a pair of elastic waist pants.

Is there anything more wonderful, more fabulous, more extraordinary than taking off a pair of jeans and slipping on a pair of loose pants with an elastic waist?

I didn't think so.