An Altercation with a Chocolate Cake

A few weeks ago Patrick and I got in a little tiff. I don’t even remember what it was about. I’m sure it was something stupid; maybe he ate the last fruit roll up or something, I don’t even know. Anyway, I said something regrettable and Patrick ended up storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He left me home alone with the dog and a chocolate cake.

I made my best attempts to distract my mind from the fight and how upset I felt about the whole situation. I sit on the couch. I lay down. I twist and turn and fumble with pillows. I watch TV. I pet the dog. And then I hear it; the chocolate cake beckoning to me.

“Gina,” it whispered. “Come over here and look at me. Look at my texture. Can you imagine how soothing I would feel melting in your mouth? I bet I taste good enough to make you forget about that man. That awful, terrible man. Come tell me all about your troubles. I’m here for you.”
“I’m not even going to look at you!” I retort back to the cake. “You’re not worth it!”
“Oh, but aren’t I?” Responds the cake. “I have three layers of ooey, gooey comfort in a neat frosting coated shell. I’m fresh and fluffy. I was made with love and kindness. I was created solely for situations like these. I’m just what you need. I will console you. I will numb those pesky, wretched feelings of yours even if just for the moment. I am so worth it.”
I get up and walk toward the cake.
“That’s it, love. Come closer and smell me, touch me, engulf me.” The cake is persistent.
I remove the plastic top covering the cake. It’s voice becomes louder and stronger. The cake continues to plead with more aggression now.
“Let’s run away together.” It suggests. “Let’s live somewhere together where no one will find us! Forget about Patrick, forget about work, the dog, school, just forget it all! Escape with me!” “I won’t judge you!” The cake shouts in a last ditch effort to suck me in, “I don’t think you’re fat!”
I grab a fork and dig it into the cake. I take a bite and then another. I close my eyes and swallow. The cake was right, it is soothing, it is comforting. The cake overwhelms me and for a moment I forget…

Then I remember! I remember my pants and how snug the have become. I remember my weight loss goals and my writing. I remember my promise to myself and to my readers. I realize that eating cake solves nothing-it doesn’t resolve my issues with Patrick!
“But I taste SO good!” The cake relentlessly grapples with me.
I block my ears, run to the kitchen trash and throw the cake away.

Actual photograph of the actual chocolate cake in the trash.

I sit back down alone on the couch and wait for Patrick to come home. No chocolate cake, no TV, no distractions; just myself and my thoughts to wrestle with.
I guess that’s what overcoming emotional addiction to food is all about: learning to put the fork down, throw out the cake and just deal.