I can stop whenever I want.

I can.

I know I use every day, but I don’t have a problem. I swear. It’s totally under control. Look, it’s not like I’m hiding it from my friends and family. They know. Everyone knows.

I’ve never asked anyone to help support my habit. I pay for all my own stuff.

Why are you looking at me like that?

I only use a little enough to power a small locomotive. Up hill. Both ways.

Ok, fine! I’ve tried again and again and I just can’t stop!

Cream? Is my love. My boo. My paramour. (Tied with beer. But one vice at a time people. Don’t be overwhelming me like that! Repeat after me: I’m a mom. Not a martyr.)

Let me tell you something because I aim to rant educate here at muffintopmommy. Did you know? Cream has 30 calories and 3 grams of fat per serving? And one serving = one tablespoon.

No, it’s not crazy talk. It’s true!

Rat bastards! It’s a cream conspiracy! (I know it’s labeled clearly on the side of the container but how am I supposed to notice that at 6:30 in the morning when I’ve, hello, not had my coffee yet? It’s called a catch 22 people, stay with me!) And if you’re a user, you know. No oneuses one tablespoon. Pfft. That’d be like having two sips of beer, or one puff of a butt. (NOT that I’d know. Unless I was at a bar, had too many beers, and maybe some baddie offered me one puff. Really late at night. When all the good kids were in bed.   Just say no, kids!)

And no one? Drinks just one coffee. For. Real. Certainly not muffintoppers who stay up too late blogging to their own detriment for the good of the world, and have to get their kid (and the rest of the brood who can’t be left at home playing with matches and drinking Drano) to the bus stop at the ungodly hour of 7 AMishishish. Some people in this situation may have one… two…three…*cough* coffees in the morning and then, sometimes, one during midday slump (that’s 3 PM EST).

So here’s some muffintopmommy math for you kids. (Never you mind that Everyday Math from those geniuses out of the University of Chicago—THIS is real world!):

If muffintopmommy has 3 cups of coffee and each cup has 2 tablespoons of cream, that’s 6 tablespoons of cream. 6 tablespoons of cream X 3 grams of fat = 18 grams of fat and 180 calories! Let’s round that up to an even 20 grams of fat and 200 calories to account for….sloppy pouring as one view of my checkbook proves, I’m not a precise kinda gal.

Dude!!!

Where is that Eat This/Not That guy right now so he can tell me what yummy concoction I can EAT for TWENTY grams of fat! How ‘bout summa that steak from the other part of that creamy cow? Moooolicious! Ice cream? Something cheesy, ooey, gooey? What can I get? Tell me, tell me! What!

Sigh.

But that’s not the point is it? NO substitutions! And I don’t want ice cream. I want cream cream. Sweet elixir. In.my.coffee! But, I know I need to kick that cream right outta my life so I can lose some LBs!

PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW. IT'S NOT YOU, CREAM, IT'S ME!! *SOBS*

See, I knew at some point that damn gym would collide with my good times. A funny thing happened over the past six plus months. I’ve actually made a commitment to physical fitness and stuck with it. Who wouldda thunk? Remember when I joined? 

ADMIT IT. YOU TOTALLY THOUGHT I WAS GONNA FALL OFF THE TREADMILL, TOO.

 And in the process, I’ve lost a few pounds, a pant size, and a shirt size. Most importantly, I feel better and stronger. Why, I even carried an armoire  with the hubs the other day (Could June Cleaver do that in her pearls? Nyet. The priss.)

Hubs said, “Wow, wifey, I don’t think you could have lifted this six months ago. It’s heavy as a bastard.”

And I said, “You know, you’re right. And I’m sure bastards are very heavy. This calls for a coffee break. And make mine cream, one sugar!”

While I’ve made progress, I know I could be making more. I’ve being going to the gym even more the past few months. But my weight has remained the same. And still…with the flab in the abs!

Shitake! That ain’t fair!

So, I had to have a come to Jesus meeting with myself.

Cream seemed like the quickest and easiest change to make. Bam. Twenty grams of fat x 7 days a week= 140 grams of fat lopped off just like that!!!

Easy, right?

And so, here I sit, having cream convulsions, my body fighting the transition to fat free cream, with it’s chemicalish taste and 20 calories per TWO tablespoons. The decreamification process is ugly. I can’t lie. I’m crabbity to the abbity. Look out—thare she blows!

LOOK OUT! THARE SHE BLOWS!!!!!

But you know what? I ain’t going down alone….

Final question….

How many fat and calories do you think are in the big old STFU sammies I’m giving to those cream pushers?! Farmer Joe and your herd o’ cows….look out!  You about to get a beat down, muffintop style!

PRETTY SURE I'M IN THE ACTING OUT STAGE. PLEASE.SEND.HELP!!!!

The one place I love to visit, and visit often, is Target.

Wait, let me start over.

“Hi, my name is Muffintopmommy, and I’m addicted to Target”, or as I, and seventy bazillion others affectionately (nay, lovingly?) call it, “Tarjay”. I know that to some Target might just seem like any other big box store, but to me it’s so much more. I would go so far to say it’s a huge part of my life right now. No, I am not kidding!

Really. Stop laughing, you! Come on, did you really think I was going to say Bloomingdale’s or some fancy pants place like that?

WE DON’T EVEN HAVE BLOOMINGDALE’S IN NEW HAMPSHIRE AND EVEN IF WE DID, THEY’D LOCK THEIR DOORS IF THEY SAW MY BROOD AND ME COMING!

“Henderson, cut the lights, lock the door…I see the bourgeois coming. Quick, quick!”

Target is where I buy a lot of household stuff, sure, but it’s also where I end up socializing, and for better or worse, buying a lot of my clothes. Now, this is partly because I can rapidly toss clothing items into a moving red plastic cart while I shop on the fly with the little scamps in tow…. and partly because Target really embodies ‘cheap chic’… in my humble opinion. I like to think I really am quite the budget fashionista—please, don’t tell Stacey and Clinton. (Or better yet, do tell.  I exaggerate my talent, and could use a $5,000 wardrobe makeover and some pointers on how to disguise the muffin top, because it is becoming abundantly clear that I am just going to continue to whine about it while doing nothing to change.)

There, I said it. I feel better now.

Please note for your shopping pleasure that Target really knows its audience. “A” for effort Target marketers—no doubt a team of savvy moms—you thought of everything. Frazzled mommies on the go rejoice that the big red shopping carts that restrain your crew can easily navigate their family changing rooms. Take that Bloomies!

Every time I hit Targ I run into other moms I know and end up yukking it up by the laundry detergent or seasonal items. I’m not going to lie to you, staying home with three kids four and under can make for long days, especially when those frosty New England winters hit, and I so look forward to my impromptu social hour. Don’t even tell me you didn’t know Targ was an informal social club? (Are you lying? Admit it— you’re right there with me.) They don’t advertise it in the Sunday flyer but it’s a well known fact among moms. You might have your water cooler, we have our aisle seven!

Target having everything I could possibly need under one roof is both a blessing and a curse. It’s fantastic because I only have to take the kids out of the car seat ONCE to do a million errands. What’s more flipping annoying than taking three kids, none of whom can buckle themselves yet, in and out of car seats on multiple errands? You might as well go have a tooth pulled then do that. (Although wait, I just remembered– that’s my vacation!)

Really, the only downside to my love affair with Targ (I like to abbreviate words. So fun. Go ahead and try it. Be a rebel. I dare you.) is that it is absolutely a threat to my household finances. But if posed with the choice, heat, light or Targ, I gotta admit, I’d have to think about it long and hard…..

Okay, I decided.

Who needs light when you can just go to Targ and enjoy all the lovely, fluorescent bright lights you want for as long as you want?! Lighting at home is so glorified anyway. So twentieth century. Laura Ingalls didn’t need light, so neither do I!

It is just so terribly easy to become derailed in Targ. I swear the orangey red décor riles you up into a spending frenzy or there’s some kind of secret old school subliminal messages in play. All I know is I might go in there for toilet paper and soap, a minor and necessary expenditure, and then come out with new wine glasses, some shorts, a frame, a book, bathing suits for the kids, tortilla chips, stationery, a purse and—oh, don’t forget the undies at the check out—seven pair for $6.99 with the fancy cursive writing on the band—sing with me now, “I’m bringing sexy back. Yeah!” 

But the kicker? I’ll get all that and then forget the toilet paper and soap that I went there in there for in the first place.

Oy.

I’m pretty careful with the household budget but in Tarjay I end up like a kid in a candy store and since most things are reasonably priced, I figure what’s the harm—til I get to the register and realize, omg, all this piddly stuff really adds up and did I really just spend that? If I get out under $100 bucks, it’s a good day. (My friend’s sister jokes that there’s a $100 cover charge at Target. I swear no truer words have been spoken.) I have no idea why each and every time I shop at Target what I spend astounds me. You’d think I’d learn some defense or something, or, gasp, just not shop there. But the fact is I don’t want to stop. I can’t stop!!!!

HELLPPP MEEEE!!!

I think I need an intervention.

It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one who suffers from Targ-diction. I’m not going down alone. As a joke, I started a Target group on Facebook. (What? I do too have a life!) Are you really surprised I’d be into Facebook?  I’ve already revealed that I’m a thirtysomething mom of three boys four and under, who has a serious muffin top problem and looks forward to socializing at a big box store. Should it surprise you some of my biggest socializing now occurs online? It’s not sad. It’s not!

But I’m digressing again (Adult onset ADD? I keep meaning to look into that…but then… I interrupt myself again and forget.). Just for kicks, I decided to see if I were the only loser, I mean, mom, who shared these sentiments about Target. I figured it would be a fun social experiment of sorts. Here’s the group’s description as I wrote on FB, and you can check for yourself, it’s 100% real and serves no actual purpose as evidenced by the fact that I put it under, “just for fun/totally random”:

MOM’S ADDICTED TO TARGET—ADMITTING IT IS THE FIRST STEP!!!

I’m proud to say, we are 63 members strong! And? We’re a geographically diverse group, having members from coast to coast, and even from Canada making us…an “international” group (That’s what I’m talking about; I like to foster international relations.) and  proving the Target addiction knows no boundaries, and targets (no pun intended) any mom, anywhere. Consider yourself forewarned!