Some days, I just don't want to get dressed. If I'm lucky, it's a day where I'm working from home and I'll throw on a pair of exercise pants, a bra and a T-shirt. I'll brush my teeth but not put on any make-up. Then I sit down at my computer and write.
It's practically 2015, and we mustn't forget the Tiffany Pollards and Brooklyns of the world. It was the perfectly highlighted and coiffed Todd Chrisley who said, "You don't ever go out of the house with your snapdragon snappin.'" I will buy a round of beer for anyone who can translate that.
I was putting on a pair of pants when I heard a gurgling noise. It was my belly. It wasn't hungry. It was mad. Then I heard a voice. Abdomens don't normally speak, but it clearly needed to. I sat down and listened because it's not every day you hear your parts talking.
Muffin top is the bit of blubbery overhang on a woman's mid-riff. Even it is barely noticeable, the female mind expands it exponentially to a monster truck tire. On this natural and normal belt, sadly, self-esteem dangles in despair. Is it possible to reclaim the muffin top as something positive?