As a result of my recent complaining to my daughter that my weight was creeping higher and higher, she set me up with a fitness app.

For just $99 per year, I am now able to stream hundreds of workouts on my television, phone, or computer.

My favorite workout is called the 21 Day Fix.

My streaming trainer Autumn’s favorite thing to say while I huff and puff:

“You give me three weeks; I’ll give you the body you always wanted.  And it will get easier, I promise.”

Sorry Autumn, but it’s going to take way more than 21 days to fix what I did to myself.  And I’ve been hanging in there with you for 40+ days now, and it’s NOT getting easier. And BTW, I’ve lost two puny pounds.

The best part of Autumn’s routine is when she shouts 3-2-1 nicely done.

But I keep on trying. Because what’s the alternative?

So, every day, I force myself to stream the 21 Day Fix and jump around my bedroom as best as a 66-year-old can.

The only results I’ve seen so far: My knees are killing me, I have a crick in my neck, and a non-stop Charlie horse in my abdomen.

Last week my abdomen hurt so bad I looked up the symptoms of a hernia.  I was sort of hoping I had one so I could quit working out.

Okay, I did lose those two measly pounds.

Until this year, when I would hear my friends complain about their muffin top, I didn’t know what that was.

Oh, but now I do.

The first sign of that belly blob over my jeans caused me to bolt over to my computer and type in Muffin-Top.

Yep. I have the muffin thingy.

According to the Urban Dictionary: “Muffin-Top is a word used to describe the unsightly fat that bulges over the offender’s waistline.”

OFFENDER?

Dang. Who knew?

First thing I did after reading the Urban Dictionary was to throw out all my below-the-belly-button pants, jeans, and leggings.

Next, I ran out and bought a bunch of mom-type lower body clothing.

Then I turned on my television and slogged through another Beach Body workout with my new bestie Autumn.

I so wish that exercising was as easy as eating.