Hello.
My name is Lysa TerKeurst and much to my dismay I have been informed there is a name to my condition. Muffin top.
If you don't know what a muffin top is, let's do a little activity. Are you sitting down? If not, sit. Do you feel a slight roll of a pouch begging to hang over the top of the waistband of your jeans? Now picture in your mind how a muffin sits in that little pleated paper wrapper. Can you see in your minds eye how at the place the paper ends the little muffin top peeks up and over her waistband too?
Yummy.
No. No. No. No. Not yummy Lysa... not yummy at all. No muffins or treats of any kind for you today. Walk directly to the veggies and fruit aisle.... do not pass go, do not collect $200.
I have been informed by my friends who have successfully passed the 40 year mark that a muffin top is indeed one of the gifts you receive upon approaching your 40th year of life.
And so, I as ever so eagerly knock on the door of 39 said muffin top seems to be making her debut. Now, don't get me wrong, I am absolutely delighted to be turning 39 this year and 40 next year. But the muffin top must go people.
I will not welcome her on my tummy.
I will not welcome her though the treats seem yummy.
I could not stand her for a day.
I will not, can not let her have her way.
Seriously. Why do those cookies, brownies, chips with queso, and french fries- extra salt, bathed in Catsup seem so much more enticing than apples, carrot sticks, and lettuce leaves?
I think I need to go have a couple of M&M's and ponder this some more.
No. No. No. No. I meant to say some pouched egg whites with all the flavory goodness sucked out of them and one piece of whole wheat toast, dry please. Really, I don't want any butter at all. Really.
My name is Lysa TerKeurst and much to my dismay I have been informed there is a name to my condition. Muffin top.
If you don't know what a muffin top is, let's do a little activity. Are you sitting down? If not, sit. Do you feel a slight roll of a pouch begging to hang over the top of the waistband of your jeans? Now picture in your mind how a muffin sits in that little pleated paper wrapper. Can you see in your minds eye how at the place the paper ends the little muffin top peeks up and over her waistband too?
Yummy.
No. No. No. No. Not yummy Lysa... not yummy at all. No muffins or treats of any kind for you today. Walk directly to the veggies and fruit aisle.... do not pass go, do not collect $200.
I have been informed by my friends who have successfully passed the 40 year mark that a muffin top is indeed one of the gifts you receive upon approaching your 40th year of life.
And so, I as ever so eagerly knock on the door of 39 said muffin top seems to be making her debut. Now, don't get me wrong, I am absolutely delighted to be turning 39 this year and 40 next year. But the muffin top must go people.
I will not welcome her on my tummy.
I will not welcome her though the treats seem yummy.
I could not stand her for a day.
I will not, can not let her have her way.
Seriously. Why do those cookies, brownies, chips with queso, and french fries- extra salt, bathed in Catsup seem so much more enticing than apples, carrot sticks, and lettuce leaves?
I think I need to go have a couple of M&M's and ponder this some more.
No. No. No. No. I meant to say some pouched egg whites with all the flavory goodness sucked out of them and one piece of whole wheat toast, dry please. Really, I don't want any butter at all. Really.
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