Day 33: Singing and Spinning in No Man’s Land…

Weight: 146 lbs — according to the scale at the doctor’s office. Mind you, I was wearing all my clothes and shoes, so let’s subtract a
pound or two, shall we?

Body Fat: The scale at the doctor’s doesn’t measure this yet.

I haven’t weighed myself at home lately, but when I went to my endocrinologist the day after my Gyno appointment, I did the routine “step on the scale”. This has got to be almost as bad as the dreaded-sit-down position for me at the pool. Not only do you get to see what you really weigh, but another person who has been tracking your stats over the last 5 months gets to bear witness to your hefty incline.

I always hesitate when Carol (the most helpful nurse/secretary I’ve ever encountered) tells me to step on the scale. A stress signal goes off in my head as I try to peel off any item of clothing that might contribute to the verdict of that 15th century-looking torture device. The most I’ve ever abandoned before stepping on is my jacket and my purse…oh,  and my 6 oz Burberry sunglasses. Ha. Wow, you know you’re really desperate to see a lower number  when sunglasses become the crucial thing you must get rid of. I’m surprised I didn’t remove my hair clip when I had the chance.

So there you have it. I am 146 whopping pounds. I can’t help but wonder how much my shoes, clothes, breakfast and 3 days worth of shit weighs. That could easily be 4-5 pounds, no? Who the fuck am I kidding. Truth is, the last time I stepped on that scale, the numbers hovered around 140-143, thus confirming a positive increase in poundage. I hang my head in shame as Carol records the awful numbers onto my chart.

According to Dr. B, my last blood test on April 7th shows that my Thyroid levels are within normal range. However, I still have some kind of thyroid antibodies in my system, whatever that means. I told him I thought I might be hypothyroid now (which is the worst thing that can happen to your metabolism). He tapped my knee and said that I seemed sluggish. Yeah. Sluggish and fat. We did another blood test.

I had my first vocal lesson this Wednesday at the Bringe Music School. I felt like Adam Sandler in that Billy Madison movie as I walked through the mini hallway of the cement bungalow that looks more like a kindergarten than a music studio. I asked my voice teacher Jay (an overly enthusiastic college-looking boy who reminds me of a perky Lee DeWyze) if I am the eldest student he has ever had for voice. I am. Everyone else is between 5 and 12 years old I assume. Jay assessed my voice range and breath control by playing various notes on the piano. I stood beside him the entire time feeling like a chubby choir boy at church performing for a perverted priest. It didn’t help that Jay’s jumbo Dunkin’ Donuts iced cappuccino drink was perspiring in front of me on the ledge of the piano, taunting my dehydrated Muffin Top.

Dunkin’ Donuts Drink: Sing for me baby, maybe I’ll let you suck on me after a few notes!

Muffin Top: Oh Dunkin’ D, you’re makin’ me hot…

Me: Ahh, precious venus…I wonder if Jay would kick me out if I just grabbed his drink and took a sip right now…Maybe if I just ask him for a sip of his drink? Dammit, damn you Dunkin’ Donuts!

Before I get any more crazy ass ideas, Jay does us all a favour and moves Dunkin’ D to the floor after realizing his cold drink was wetting all the music school flyers it was sitting on.

Did you know that only a very small percentage of people are actually tone-deaf? Yep. Jay verified that when people sound like they are off pitch and sound like they can’t sing, they are not actually tone-deaf. People who are truly tone-deaf are basically borderline “retarded”. His word, not mine. It’s like being color-blind, except that people who are color blind are usually not retards. I think I’d rather be color blind.

What else is new in the world of Muffin Top? Well I have been trying to fill up my days with distractions for her. She needs another friend besides Mr. Fridge, so I figure that if I drag her ass outta the house, it’ll break the attachment to him.  Singing only covers 30 minutes of the day, so I have been spending more time at the gym lately. Whether it’s 45 minutes of watching the latest trashiest episodes of 90210 or Kell on Earth while running, doing weights, Zumba or spinning…

I tried the spinning for the second time in my life yesterday. It was Gobe’s idea. Lemme just say that shit is tough. Literally no stopping. After almost an hour of pretending to be pedaling up an imaginary hill to music ranging from house, hip hop, and bad oldies dance remakes, I was sweating like a whore in church. Thank god we get to stand up quite a bit on our bikes, or my ass would be done-zo. Poor Gobes. Can’t imagine what his nut sack must be like after a class like that, besides sweaty — can’t be good for the balls.

Yesterday was also a good food day. I didn’t go crazy in the afternoon and mindlessly snack out of boredom, anxiety, and feeling overall worthless since I am still without a job and in the land of geriatrics.

I think I just need to keep track of everything I put in my mouth. yes, I know I have said this before. There’s actually a pretty good online tool for this at You have to register and all, but it’s surprisingly easy and efficient at tracking food and calories.

Until next time!


2 Responses to “Day 33: Singing and Spinning in No Man’s Land…”

  1. LOL – I can confirm that spinning is severely painful for the nutsack.

  2. muffers Says:

    Well well I am counting down the day for the good’ol reunion of muffers and muffin top…. i prepared us many little snack and treats upon your visit !!!!

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