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I want cake.
It’s the same text message each month. I’ll send it to my friend, or she’ll send it to me. Out of the blue, usually in the evening. Cake. I want it.
Men don’t get these cravings, you know? For the life of him, Michael cannot understand why I will suddenly crave a specific food. It changes…sometimes it’s salty, sometimes it’s sweet. Sometimes it’s cake. (Often, it’s cake.)
I combat these monthly cravings by eating something that is not cake. It’s quite depressing and all the while all I can think about is how great some CAKE would taste right now and if I only had some CAKE I would show it who was boss and eat that CAKE all over the place.
Sure, I could go get a slice of cake somewhere. But I don’t want a slice of cake.
I want the whole cake. And then a slice of cake.
This is not cake.
This is Special K. Special K is not cake.
We had a discussion, Special K and I. I told Special K it was going to cure my cravings and pretend to be cake and we would live happily ever after while losing 1 inch from my waist in 2 weeks. (See that claim? Right there on the bottom left corner of the box? That claim is only true if you eat only Special K and not cake.)
Special K tastes nothing like cake.
Am sad.
And craving cake.
