Here I am trying to think about what ‘meaningful mundane’ activity I do that would be totally moving and beautiful, and all that comes up is the disappointing cinnamon roll cake I just made.
Meaningful? Maybe not to you, and maybe this is not going in the intended direction, but join me nonetheless?
It all started with waking up this morning. Of course the first thing I did was get naked on the scale to see if yesterday’s torture paid off.
“Hmm. Basically the exact same as yesterday. What a crock of sh–”
When this happens (“this” meaning a weight gain or maintaining weight), one thing usually happens: I get on Pinterest and start looking up food porn.
Not yet giving myself full permission to make any of it, but just scratching an itch, I start drooling over the fried chicken, the Japanese cheesecake, the pulled pork sandwiches.
You see, this “browsing” stage is when I am still in denial. I know deep down that my day of “eating right” is ruined. I know that I will be feasting on something sweet & greasy alike. I know all this, but I would never admit it.
Then comes the list-making. I go to my board and choose the top 3 things I crave. Today it was a fried chicken sandwich, a chocolate smoothie and cinnamon roll cake (keep in mind, the time was about 8 am). My brain went through all of the ingredients in the kitchen, because the logical thing to do was make something now.
Have this? Check. This? Check. That? No, but I can make up a substitute. BINGO! Good enough. And with no real discussion with myself whether or not this was a good idea, I am already in the kitchen.
I’m armed with a scribbled down recipe for cinnamon roll cake. I begin putting the ingredients in the mixer. Going through the motions, pretending that I am some sort of top chef … when in actuality I am just a woman who denies herself so often that a cake can bring on a sort of psychosis.
Oh crap, no brown sugar. Oh well, regular sugar will do. Into the oven. Wait, what?? 32 minutes? Are you crazy? Okay, whatever.
I, of course, check every 10 minutes or so. Eternity is staring me in the face. I am so desperate, so hungry for a taste. With 5 minutes to go, I whip up the icing and then resort to eating most of it out of the bowl.
Just then, the timer announces that it has finished its holy job — and I take the cinnamon-y goodness out of the oven, pour on the icing, and slice myself a piece. This is what I have been waiting for, the moment of truth …
And in one moment, I am hit with a truth that burns out every fire inside of me: This cake tastes like the rotten cousin of cornbread.
A devastating blow, but one that I am ultimately thankful for in the end. You see, if it had tasted good, then I’d have eaten the whole pan. This was a blessing in disguise (hence, “meaningful” … get it? get it?).
Okay. There may actually be no point to this post .. but since I was always good at passing tests with my ‘total b.s.’ answers, I could give this a real shot.
Point: When dieting, refrain from Pinterest at all costs (this will never work in reality).
Point: Just say NO to substituting regular sugar for brown sugar.
Point: Dieting is for losers and scales are the devil (although I will continue to diet and weigh myself).
Hmm… this isn’t working.
You know what? I think we all know what the true point here today is…
I will end up eating the rest of the cake.