I like muffins. And I must admit that when I first heard the slang term “muffin top” used to describe the puffy layer of fat-filled skin that oozes over one’s waist line and overhangs the waistline of one’s clothing, I knew that my appreciation and taste for muffins would be forever altered. I don’t think I have eaten one since. But that does not keep me from remembering, every day, the term which forever adulterated my relationship with these beloved bakery items. I hear “muffin top” whispered inside my head when I go to button my pants, or when I am tucking in my shirt, or when I happen to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror or in a picture which was taken from behind my person. The evidence is clear – I have baked my midriff and become the Muffin Man.
My love-hate relationship with certain foods is a life-long issue that I have written about before. Currently I am transitioning from the loving to the hating phase of this abusive courtship, and my body holds the clearest evidence that the loving time went on for far too long during the most recent cycle. I know now that food was my first addiction. Food obsession and addiction is in fact recognized by the medical community, and for anyone who eats for reasons other than hunger, it is not a phenomena that needs much explanation. Food fills you when you feel empty. Or when you feel lonely, or tired, or stressed. I have found food to work temporarily and somewhat effectively in avoiding any feeling, in fact – just like drugs and alcohol do! I know that I eat more when the pressure is on, and when things are tense or stressful. Unfortunately for me, the last few years of my life have been tense and stressful, and I have desperately tried to convince myself that turning to food is “way better than turning to drugs and alcohol!” This is one of the advantages to being in recovery: it is easier to justify bad behaviors and secondary addictions – recovering people can always compare them to the primary addiction and weasel one’s way into doing other unhealthy things – at least that’s what I do – but as my sponsor likes to tell me “I’m a little bit sicker than most.” In any case, it seems like a great card to play until the realization comes, usually like a sharp blow to the head, that I really only hurt myself with this line of thinking and behavior.
So here I am with a muffin top “situation” on my hands, trying desperately to convince myself that the eating and the weight are O.K. In fact, if I wear the right clothes, you can barely notice the excess me at all. Women seem to be better at finding flattering clothing for this purpose, or being able to draw the eye away from places that one does not want to accentuate. For men, though, this practice is more difficult. We simply do not have that many places that are particularly pleasing to look at in the first place, and if those places become eyesores, there is not much choice but to shut down the areas completely with loose, tent-like clothing. For example, men, in general, do not wear make up to cover age lines, or facial blemishes, or to bring out the color of our eyes. The clothes that are marketed to men do not contain hidden padding, or slimming tailoring, or secret devices of any type to help us out with certain problematic areas. If you need evidence of this, look at all of the men walking around with their pants sagging and bagging in the rear end because our creator did not endow many of us with enough back there to fill out the standard men’s pants. I have heard this condition described as “noassatall,” but I have not yet Googled the term to verify that is a diagnosable medical condition.
Many people gave warnings that as I got older my body would turn against me in the digestion and metabolism of my favorite unhealthy foods, but I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to believe that I would always be able to eat like I did when I was a teenager and staying active. Back then it was not uncommon to finish a loaf or so of white bread each day topped with a few sticks of butter and a pound of sliced cheese. I would then wash it all down with a gallon or so of non-diet soda. And that was just for breakfast. My memory of what I could eat when I was younger may be inaccurate, but I believe that most things about the past should be steeped in joyful denial and romanticized longings – it sure beats the plain, boring truth. So I will continue to believe that I could, in fact, eat anything I wanted to at some point in my life and not gain a pound.
This very thought crossed my mind not long ago, but it had morphed into a hideous, ugly truth. From somewhere in my head I heard the words “You can still eat anything you want – you will just look like an obese, overstuffed pastry.” I don’t like that voice in my head – the one that pipes up while I am looking for larger clothing to cover my muffin batter. I will be rummaging through the left side of my closet “my skinnier clothes” and then pushing them all aside to reach the right side of my closet “my fat boy clothes.” The voice likes to let me know that it noticed my switchover and that I’m really not fooling anyone. It also likes to chime in when I am bending over for something and notice the growing sack – my paunch – that appears to be filling with something liquid and viscous that is similar to thick pancake batter and that hangs lower than any other part of me when I bend over.
My concerns over these issues go beyond how these new and growing parts of me look. I am fairly sure that the window for my modeling career has closed, especially any modeling that would require me to appear without the loose fitting, trick clothing that I have decided to conceal myself in rather than to face the ugly, puffy truth. I am also not looking for a mate – I already have one – and she signed on for better or for worse, which I think I made clear during our wedding ceremony includes the shape and condition of my body. My biggest problem with the overflow around my belt is that it proves the information I mentioned hearing before from my wise elders about metabolism and food and growing older. They knew about the facts and costs of aging, and I am finding it harder and harder to deny the wise predictions they made. I entered my 40’s really trying to convince myself that it would be no big deal – that I would continue to be the “young man” that people assured me I was in my 30’s. People stopped using that phrase the day after my 40th birthday, however. And then the grey hairs came marching in. Followed by a few various aches and pains that as a younger man I always “shook off” in a day or two. These pains lingered and required things like rest and aspirin. And rest became suddenly more appealing as a habit. I bought a recliner. To rest in. With a blanket over me. Preferably with a bowl full of something I can eat out of – like a personal trough. And although I enjoy these times in my chair with my food trough immensely, the voice I detest so much keeps screaming at me as I stare in the bathroom mirror at a foreign and bloated version of myself: “DUDE – REALLY? GET A GRIP!”
The time has come to get a grip. Something must be done. Experience and common sense tell me that my life situation will not change much – some good things, some bad things, but overall more of the same. The same logic dictates that expecting my metabolism to revert to that of my 16 year old self might be an exercise in futility – pure wishful thinking based on fictional recollections of a time long ago. I suppose there is always the boring old idea to eat less and exercise more, but come on now – if it was really that simple, wouldn’t I have set down my food trough, gotten out of this chair, and done it by now??
What you say about women clothing is so right on. People say to me, “You didn’t really need to lose weight, did you?” I remind them there was 42 lbs. more of me a year ago. As you say you tend to choose clothes that hide the really bad areas. For both of us this is a lifelong struggle. As you have done before, I’m sure you will get a handle on it. Advice from an older generation, weigh yourself every day. When you stop, you are in denial. Also get rid of the fat clothes. I’ve been there!
I feel your pain brother… I’m however not overeating as much but just not eating the right things… I feel great when I hit the treadmill before work too, but it’s always short lived… Snooze button seems to always prevail!!!