Me and My Muffin Top

I am at war with my muffin top.

I have been for the better part of the last 20 years.

As is necessary with any long-term adversary, I have given her a name.

Her name is Muffin, or sometimes when I am really irritated with her omnipresence, "The Muffin." So original, I know. I suppose I could have gone all Harry Potter style and named her "The Excess
That Shall Not Be Named." But that takes way to long to say. And write.

So Muffin and I have been locked in vicious combat since the day I discovered that the "mom" jean style , while so effective at providing a waistline five inches above the belly button, is not so stylish. Thanks, Mom, for letting me rock those well into my teens. Awesome. So I dropped my waistline and out popped Muffin.

Of course, Muffin has changed size and shape over the years, depending on what was going on in my life. In high school, she was little more than a nuisance who showed up occasionally when I had to squeeze into a too-small costume out of the wardrobe warehouse during a musical. Frankly, I was such and insecure mess in my teen years (Ahhh....the teen years.) that she was the least of my worries. In college, she started to blossom, as did my relationship with beer and late night pizza. hmmm....connection? Then in graduate school I beat her into submission with a fervent obsession with the gym. Nine hours a week, minimum: teaching, training, and working out on my own time. My body was healthy at that point in time. I can't say the same for my mind.

Oh, that darn mind again. I love the thing when it works for me. But when it decides to spin on negative thoughts, we have words.

"Trust in God, he's bigger than you."

"Be kind."

"Turn your focus outward."

"Shut it."

So here I am, years into the battle with Muffin, facing another opportunity to get the upper hand, and wondering if anything will actually change.

Here's the deal: I feel like poo. My guts are not doing what they are supposed do. I will not elaborate, because you don't want me to. Promise. I am not sleeping. I am always hungry. I am always tired. Exercise doesn't even make me feel better. Regardless of what I eat or don't eat and what I work or don't work, Muffin just keeps getting bigger and bigger. She has morphed from a little extra jiggle and skin into the kind of abdominal fat that comes from stress and poor eating and is associated with cardiovascular disease. uh oh.

So what does a self-declared "Positive Body Image" advocate do with that??

I want to accept myself for who I am, not my appearance. My health is declining (slowly, albeit, but I'm going in the wrong direction and I'm not getting any younger), as evidenced by my APPEARANCE and how I feel inside.

Tricky.

I've been down this road before. Clean things up, feel much better, lose a little weight, stop obsessing over appearance. Oh wait, when I lose weight, I obsess MORE. As I get nearer to society's ideal, I am less and less satisfied with how I look. It's a slippery slope.

Bottom line is, I am starting an anti-inflammatory cleanse, closely supervised by a certified nutrition therapist. It is likely that I will be a bit thinner at the end. So where will my thoughts be?

Well, thoughts are one of the few things we have control over in this crazy life. I so decided to change mine. As I change my body, I shall change my thoughts.

I have already started. When I glance at a reflection in a mirror or a window and I see Muffin, hanging out in all her glory, I think "hmm...have a Muffin, but that is not who I am."
or "oh! there's Muffin. when she's gone, will I be a different person? nope. So does she have any influence on my true self? nope."

I know. It's weird. But it is also WORKING. Now, when I catch my reflection, I am starting to feel a weight lift off my shoulders when I redirect my thoughts. I am starting to coexist with Muffin. So now, if she goes or if she stays, I am still the same person. I will still love classical music and club music. (Weird combo? Tell me about it!) Jane Austen will still be my favorite author. I will still be married to the Amazing Lou and be mother to my sweet babes.

I choose not to be dependent on something so changeable to determine who I am.