Cake Withdrawals

I was asked recently whether I was a sugar addict. I scoffed at the question. First of all, you ask it like it’s a problem, and second of all, it’s none of your goddamn business, now give me the cake before I pop off on your ass.

So, as you can see, the answer is (obviously) that I am NOT a sugar addict. I just love cake more than life itself.

I’ve always hated the saying, “you can’t have your cake and eat it too,” as it seems redundant. What is the point of having cake if you can’t eat it. A cake’s whole life purpose is to be eaten, isn’t it? It endured a fiery furnace, and dressed itself in silky ganache just to ready itself to be eaten. Come on. What even is my life purpose if not to demolish a perfectly formed slice of chocolate cake?

And let’s be real, if you’re even remotely my friend, you’ll find none of this surprising as you’ll know I value cake second only to my children's lives. So I went on a sugarless diet about a month ago, and while I haven't died obviously, today, I definitely feel like dead.  So when I find myself in these situations where I can’t eat my cake, literally, I can’t, I start to question the meaning of life and ask stupid rhetorical questions like:

Firstly, But WHY can’t I eat my cake? I hate my life. (Proceed to throw toys out of cot)

Second question is, how the fuck did I get myself in this sticky cake-less situation? You are infinitely smarter than this, immensely NOT basic like this situation, how in the actual fuck are you here?

The answers like me, are complex (or BASICAF depending how you look at it) but the crushing reality is, I’m without cake. I am suffering. And I deserve it. Because when it comes to cake, and the way it makes me feel. I am endlessly, shamelessly selfish. I feel guiltless in indulging, and deserving to have it, in spite of the mess in the kitchen, and in spite of whether it was mine to begin with. I do realize this makes me a bad person, that doesn’t deserve cake. Which is the answer to both questions I asked myself earlier. That’s why you can’t have nice things, Fotu. That’s. Why.

The thing about all this, is despite knowing I don’t deserve any of the cake. Despite being on a diet for a month where I am supposedly killing my sugar bugs, I still want my fucking cake, Will! I’ve realized my body is not addicted to cake (ok it sort of is) but more so, I am mentally hungry for the “sugar” cake gives me. The simple, momentary spoonful of happiness in amidst the fuckery that is my life. I don’t need a lot of things, but I need that. I won’t die without it. I am resilient. But I want it, and I know I deserve at least a fucking spoonful of happiness.

In my next life, I live in a bakery, and I wake up to the smells of fresh baked goods wafting through my door as my baker husband and his team of bakers make me daily servings of happiness. I might have diabetes and die early, as an amputee, but at least I live and die happy. And not living bitter and sour like I am today, for the absence of some baked carbs and sugar.

Now, Because I am who I am, I will sort myself the fuck out eventually. But today, just, Fuck. This. Cake-less. Life. Fuck!

So am I a sugar addict? Oh just, fuck off. Leave my fucking sugar bugs the fuck alone.


Ok, cake rant over.