Cake is just about my favorite food on Earth.
I’ve never been able to refuse a good piece of cake, or even a half-good one, to be honest.
Well, that all changed this past weekend.
My landlord, as she oft does when she has some, delivered a sizeable share of her son’ s birthday cake on Saturday; it really must have been half a sheetcake.
It had a thick layer of buttercream (my favorite) and a few charming and enticing blue roses. As soon as I saw the cake, which I received following a particularly hardcore session on my Air Climber and a horrid circuit from Fit magazine (20 pushups, lunges, crunches, leg lifts and squats), my cakebuds began watering.
I accepted the cake – eagerly peeking at it, especially when I heard it was from a famed local bakery – and set it on the counter with nary a bite.
The next day, following a healthy breakfast, I took my cereal spoon to the cake, took a tiny bite and one of those blue roses and called it a day. I wrapped up the cake, taking special care to smush it against its tinfoil to make it less appetizing and walked away.
A lifestyle change? Perhaps. A love affair with cake, over? Maybe …