When I was a lanky little kid, a thinly teenager, and a twiggy twenty-something, I thought a muffin top was literally a muffin that had spilled over the paper casing. In fact, the muffin top was my favorite part of the whole muffin. It was firm, slightly crunchier, and it wasn’t soft like the middle so it stayed in your hand, therefore easier to eat.
In junior high, I would spend the night with my friend KB most often because at ten o’clock at night her mom would bring us blueberry muffins. Nothing said love like a late night snack fresh out of the oven, and back then calories and sugar grams were only counted by fat people. We were not fat and did little counting in those days, and quite honestly in those days I needed a little more love.
Once I hit college, I noticed people ate muffins in the morning. Strange, the last thing I wanted in the morning was sugar but I tried it – not entirely impressed. If I wanted something sugary in the morning, I wanted it to have a big hole in the middle and to be enigmatically named doughnut. There was a sophisticated allure with a morning muffin in those days, and much like beer I acquired a taste for it.
Now that I’m in my thirties I’ve learned that you can’t eat until you’re loved or get rid of acquired habits (like eating or drinking) so easily, and muffin tops are not just reserved for baked goods.