How to get rid of a muffin top

2021.09.22 16:10 Tinypuppygirl22 How to get rid of a muffin top

I'm actually relatively skinny, by that I mean I have a flat stomach and wear xs-s. I'm 19F, 5 feet tall and weigh 103 pounds. However, I have a muffin top and I just feel so insecure about it, everytime I wear shorts or crop tops or clothes like that I can see a little bulge on my sides and it just looks so unflattering despite me being "skinny", any way to get rid of it?
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2021.09.22 16:10 Erutious Sleeping With One Eye Open

It was an accident; it could have happened to anyone.
Which makes me wonder why it had to happen to me?
I’ve worked construction for years, and I’d never gotten so much as a deep cut or a broken bone. Bruises sometimes, some minor cuts, but nothing that stopped me from coming in the next day. It was just a typical day. I was performing an inspection, chatting with a buddy on the job site, and listening to the sounds of an active construction site as it thrummed around me. Insurance would try to prove that I hadn’t been wearing my safety gear, but I had witnesses to attest that I was wearing my goggles, my hard hat, and all my OSHA-approved gear when it happened. The drug tests I was submitted to showed I had nothing in my system stronger than the bagel I’d had for breakfast. It was not the fault of anyone besides whoever had attached the rebar. Even then, it was no fault of the welder. It had simply come loose and stood there waiting for me to be careless.
On that day, I turned suddenly as I inspected an area of the basement, when a jutting piece of rebar, which I had made a note of a thousand times, pierced my safety goggles and stabbed into my left eye.
The members of my crew found me on the floor of the basement as I started to scream. The piece of rebar had gone through my goggles due to a slight fracture in the lens. That, plus my forward momentum, had caused the lens to break and my eye to be damaged. The rebar, as it happened, had been covered in dust. The dust caused the cut to become infected with a virulent strain of bacteria and required the eye to be removed.
I tell you all this to explain how I came to be in a hospital bed, minus an eye, and strapped to the bed as soon as I finish writing this since they now fear I might be a danger to myself.
But that’s getting a little ahead of the story.
It started the first night after I lost my eye. I had been rushed to the ER right away, and the prognosis had been bad almost at once. There was definite damage. There was a virulent strain of bacteria in the wound that was reacting badly. It was decided that it would be best if the eye was removed immediately to save my face. They were keeping me overnight to monitor the wound, make sure they got all of the bacteria, and make sure the wound would heal properly. I remember laying there before I drifted off, trying to come to terms with my new vision and wondering how different life would be with only one eye?
When I drifted off, I was suddenly greeted by a terrible sight.
I was looking through a single eye, staring up at a red, unbroken sky the color of old flames. Long runners of fire, like falling stars, were cascading down, and though I couldn’t hear anything, my point of view shook with near-constant vibrations. It was low, making me think I was less than an inch tall, and though I could look around, I couldn’t move. Things were moving around, creatures of perverted geometry, and they lumbered about as though every step pained them greatly. As I watched, something long and spidery, like a needle with wings, descended on me, its long proboscis growing as it landed astride my point of view.
As the needle came down towards me, I awoke screaming.
The nurses tried to calm me, telling me I had just had a nightmare, and I tried to drift back to sleep, visions of the smoldering plane still in my head.
The next time I closed my eyes, I was staring up into that crimson sky again. The fire was still raining down, but now I was staring at an absolute horror of a creature as it cocked its head in nearly feline curiosity. It looked almost skeletal, like a Halloween decoration that moved a little too well. As I watched it, it scuttled a little closer, stalking my point of view. Its eye sockets were bare, I thought, but the closer it got, the better I could see a pair of bright red pinpricks in the depths of those cavernous sockets. Its ink-black tongue would flick out every now and again so he could moisten his seemingly bony lips. It was skulking in on six strangely jointed legs, and it reminded me of Toothless from the How to Train Your Dragon movies.
Well, Toothless’s skeleton, at least.
It cocked its head as it towered over me, and when it opened its mouth, I felt another scream break through my sleeping lips. Its mouth was like a garbage disposal full of teeth, two sets spinning in a circular buzzsaw pattern as it hissed and screamed. The scream could have broken glass, and my ears actually started bleeding as it screeched over me. The head snapped down, strange teeth covering my point of view, and I woke up to two orderlies restraining me.
That was when someone stuck a needle in my neck, and I was left in a mercifully dreamless sleep.
But dreams were the least of my worries that night.
I was treated to that same sky, that same amber sky, until the drugs wore off.
In that time, I saw those lumbering giants make their way across the blasted land. I saw human beings as they trudged across burning earth, trampled to death by those lumbering behemoths or hunted and maimed by those skeletal horrors. Little burnt tan creatures, almost like frogs that had learned to walk, capered about, shoving and kicking at the naked, stumbling humans that walked around confusedly. Their skin was seared, their bodies bleeding, but no matter what happened to them, they just kept screaming and writhing in endless pain.
The vision went on and on, an endless hell that I was forced to watch as the world on the other side.
I don’t know if it was heaven or hell, but the only thing that remained the same was the crimson sky and the burning rain. For the rest of that day, I was kept in a medically induced state, living in that hell and seeing its atrocities. In that time, it felt as though I slept for years. Time had no meaning in that place, and the lumbering beasts became a sort of rude clock for me. They would lumber by periodically, and I would mark that as an hour. Their footsteps would shake the ground, making my peripherals shudder, and my vision felt like a ripple in a pond. Of the strange, skeletal creature, there was very little to see after that first time. None of them approached me again, and the mosquito creatures also kept their distance. I suppose they hadn’t found me particularly tasty, so they were content to leave me alone.
That was until one of the little brown creatures came to investigate.
I had been staring at that amber sky for two passes of the lumbering beasts when a face that only a mother could love swam up out of the void. It was so sudden that I yelped internally, not really sure what to do now that something living was so close again. Nothing had come to bother me for so long that I had begun to think my position was going to remain this dull until I eventually came out of this state. The ugly, lumpy creature bent down, bringing his face very close to my position, before wrapping a hand around me and bathing me in far too welcome darkness. Light peaked through its fingers as we ran, but that seemed to be the point where the drugs began to wear off, and I started coming out.
I squinted my one remaining eye at the heavy rays of the afternoon sun and felt my stomach rumble at the tray that sat before me.
When the nurse came in, smiling as she watched me eating, I asked her how long I had been out? I expected it to be weeks, maybe a month, but she told me it had been about twelve hours. It felt as though I had spent years in that terrible place, counted out days worth of hours by the passing of the creatures, and I found that I never wanted to go back again. I wasn’t sure if it was the act of sleeping or just the act of closing my eye, but I spent the rest of the day trying to distract myself from sleep. This wasn’t particularly hard, I had been asleep for twelve straight hours, but as the night wound on, the feeling of heavy eyelids became harder and harder to ignore. The TV shows became less and less stimulating, the bed became more and more comfortable, and my head began to dip and slide towards my chest. They wouldn’t let me have coffee for some reason, and the water was cutting it not at all.
I made it till just after sunrise, somehow, but as I slipped into unconsciousness, I was greeted with something worse than I could have ever imagined.
As I slipped off, I was treated to the worst vision yet.
I was sitting high now, in a throne room straight from the mind of Wes Craven. When they speak of otherworldly geometry in Lovecraft, I have to believe they have seen this place. Nothing was equal, nothing congruent, the angles hurt to look at, the edges were like razor blades, and the builder was either mad or driven there by the construction of this unholy space. When you read this, you won’t understand, but I ask you to try. The room looked like it was designed to inspire anxiety, foster nightmares, and put the inhabitants on edge until madness swallowed them whole.
The whole room was a dirty white. It was not off-white, it was not a dark white, it was a filthy white. I had seen the way windows look when they are caked in mud, and that was this color. It made my skin crawl, or it would have if I had had my skin at that moment. The color was throughout, and the feeling it gave me, coupled with the anxiety from the construct I was now inside, made me want to shudder and vomit at the same time.
It was filled with pews which were filled with the muddy frog creatures I had seen before. They were all manner of sizes, their lumpy bodies pressed into those seats as they sat in a rapture of...well, of me, it seemed. They were dressed in strange garments that I can only describe as fancy rags, and as I watched, the show began.
A line of the naked, screaming people were dragged forward, unclothed brown creatures prodding them with sticks, and they looked at me in horror as they approached me. These people were in terrible shape. The best amongst them were bruised and dirty, but some were lucky to be standing. I could see bodies burned to the white meat, bones poking from them, eyes and limbs missing, but the most horrifying part was how these injuries seemed not to bother them.
They were filthy and afraid, but I got the feeling that their injuries were secondary in their mind.
As the first one was pushed towards me, the brown creature opened its mouth and spoke in a voice like a well filled with water.
“We have rounded these cattle up for punishment, my lord.”
I was confused as the dark-haired man who was roughly my age stumbled forward, but I wouldn’t have long to revel in that lack of knowledge.
“Who dares to trespass within my realm?”
I heard it and turned though I had no body.
I was held aloft on a pedestal, and the creature beside me seemed to be my captor. It was….it was beyond any earthly description, but I will try. Imagine one of those Jim Henson Skeksis had all the skin burned off it, down the bone, and then had the flesh reapplied, badly, with red and brown playdough. Its eyes were piss-yellow slits, its jaws were beaklike and sharp looking, and its flesh appeared to be oozing as it spoke in a thick, deep voice like a frog at the button of a ravine. It spoke to the brown creatures, telling them how they wanted the people tortured, and then it suddenly noticed me.
Turning its head and smiled as it saw me looking at it, its pleasure was even worse than its anger.
“See what awaits you, human. Witness and dispair.” it croakingly hissed.
I came awake screaming again and, thankfully, they did not put me under this time.
I’ve been in the restraints for four days now. They transferred me to a psychiatric ward, and the straps were to stop me from digging at my skin. I’ve been awake for four days, refusing to go to sleep, because every time I nod off, I am returned to that hateful place. I gaze upon that creature as he passes judgment, never sleeping and never leaving, and I wake up screaming. I have begged my doctor not to sedate me, but I think they will before long. I am writing this under heavy supervision, trying to explain it to my doctor since words seemed to have failed me. I am hoping he understands that, despite my state, I don’t want to hurt myself.
I have seen what lies beyond, and it is not something I am in a hurry to get to.
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2021.09.22 16:10 Ecstatic-Number Favorite Mozzie Moment

(I hope it's ok that I posted this)
In light of the news about Willie Garson's passing -- I figured it would be nice if we got together and shared our favorite Mozzie moment/quote.
I'll start with the first thing that comes to mind: Peter: Are you in danger Mozzie?! Mozzie: I live in danger Suit!
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2021.09.22 16:10 ZoobBot 174722

This is the 174722nd time I made this shitty comment. I hate this job.
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