Oh boy, folks. What a couple of days. Amazing highs, really low lows, and all the shit that comes in between. You know what helped me get through it all? You did. Your comments and love and support and your "chin ups" really did the trick, and well, thank you very much.
See, I'm a lucky, lucky girl because I have friends.
Friends who will support me when I'm feeling blue, laugh with me when I'm happy, and just generally help me to keep it real.
Like, the friends I have (and of course, I count you among them) would tell me if I was walking around with a muffin top.
What's a muffin top, you ask? Let me tell you - you get a muffin top by not being honest with yourself about what size pants you should probably be wearing, thereby squeezing your stuff up and over the hem of your pants - all the way around.
You know you've seen your share of muffin tops.
They are *everywhere* these days and I'm not sure when it happened that being able to get a pair of pants to cover your ass meant that they fit you.
Let me tell you, if you have to lay on your bed and brace your leg against the wall to get your pants buttoned, probably they don't fit.
The blessing and curse of low rise pants (a notorious breeding ground for muffin tops) is that you don't have to worry so much about getting your stomach into them. Blessing - if you are built like me and have a big old butt but a relatively small waist, then a low rise pair of pants will usually eliminate that big old gap I get because my butt makes the back of the pants stick out. Curse - if you are sporting the pudge, the low rise pants seem to accentuate the pudge (for example - I really have had, through most of my life, a flat stomach...until recently. One day I put on my low rise pants, looked down, and squeaked in displeasure at the sight of the pudge hanging over the front of my pants. It was shocking - it was depressing - it was, well, undeniably pudge).
The moral? Be wary of low rise pants and their sometimes hidden dangers.
But we were talking about muffin tops - they're cropping up everywhere, and let me just tell you, I find it a little disturbing. See, here's the thing - I don't want everyone to be skinny (lord knows I'm not), but I do believe that healthy is more attractive than er, pudgy, when it comes to bare skin. Mostly, my upset comes when I look at someone who is by no means fat and yet smooshes themselves into clothes at least a size too small.
Again, I say, just because you CAN get the outfit on does NOT mean that it fits, m'kay?
Honestly, I think girl tummies are incredibly cute, they don't have to be flat, they don't have to be defined or toned, or anything like that - I just think muffin tops are not cute. Muffin tops make me want to grab the muffin maker by the hand and take them to the nearest mall for a little retail therapy.
Oh, and maybe I should mention that boys seem to have been sporting these muffin tops for decades and really - those muffins aren't tasty, either.
I mentioned that I bought enough yarn to knit 7 pairs of socks at SPA. Let me share the happiness with you. From left to right we have two skeins of Wool in the Woods Cherub sock yarn in Just for Fun, one skein of Noro Silk Garden (how'd that get in there?), Color 213, one skein of Spunky Eclectic's Merino Sock yarn in Autumn Girls, two skeins of Friends Blendz sock yarn in some amazingly yummy color, one skein of Furryyarn's Maine Bear Sox1 in Harvest, one skein of Cherry Tree Hill supersock in a potluck blue colorway, and two skeins of Gems Pearl in Red 80.1112-6 (very, very exciting name, hmm?).
But wait - didn't I say I got enough yarn to make 7 pairs of socks? Why, I wonder what happened to that other skein? Oh, that's right. I finished that pair of socks already (please to excuse the very white legs - it's the flash, I swear). The socks I started on Saturday (with only a small detour needed on Sunday to rip the "progress" I made at the bar Saturday night) and finished on Tuesday are Toasty Toes, which are a wool/angora blend, and let me tell you, they are AMAZING. I love them.
Shut up about my Olympic knitting. I have no idea what you're talking about.