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.