last month my mother died. a few days later i went to work at an office i work at once a week. in the fridge, there was a cake. a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and peanuts in the frosting. it was one of those cakes from the shitty bakery of a grocery store. i could tell by looking at it that it was completely processed and full of artificial ingredients. maybe there was an egg in it. maybe.
best of all, the sticker on the plastic shell encasing it read: manager’s special $2.
hell yes. not only is that cake full of high fructose corn syrup, animal shorting and modified cornstarch, but it’s old. oh yeah, you better believe i ate that shit. i didn’t take a piece, put it on a plate and sit down and eat it. where would be the deprivation in that?
ok yes, i’m generally known to not eat either sugar or processed things, so i don’t want anyone to see me eating something i might secretly judge them with my eyes for eating. yes i could just sit down with a big slice and say “my mother’s dead, i’m eating this.” but it seemed easier to eat it in secret standing over the garbage.
i went back the following week pledging i would not indulge if there was another sweet treat waiting for me in the refrigerator. to my utter despair and delight the same cake was still there! i can’t express the joy and longing i felt that so easily surpassed any feelings of self-respect or reason.
not only was that cake old and shitty, but it was now old, dried out, old shitty cake! oh yeah.
the frosting was a hard shell with a gooey center and the cake itself was like a dried out dirty sponge. i ate it immediately. just a small piece. over the garbage.
it was horrible.
and slightly orgasmic.
i threw the rest in the garbage. something someone else should have done a week ago. then i sat down at my desk.
eventually i got up and dug some of it out of the garbage. you better believe i ate it. ohhhh man. it was even more delectable. i don’t know why, but the viler the cake the more delicious,
i sprayed the remaining garbage cake with wood polish i found under the sink. i wiped the carnage from my face and hands and sat down with the full realization that that was the cake equivalent of a blow job in a dive bar bathroom.
yup. sure was.
my mother is dead. is it ok that i ate old old shitty cake? yes.
yes because i can see and understand that i ate it to not feel. i ate it to fall back into old behaviors i no longer indulge in. i am not enslaved by cake the way i was when i binged and purged. and it’s nice to realize i’ve come far enough that i don’t have to go back. i just wanted to dip my foot back in the pool so i could feel badly about that for a moment and not feel the dead mother sadness. i needed the shot of dopamine in lieu of the hug i would never get from my mother.
yes i think a piece of garbage cake is ok.
yes because when i make a shitty food choice, i choose to love myself instead of hate myself. if i love me, i am good to me; if i hate me, i am mean to me. and when i am mean to me, i eat mean things. meanly. i.e. out of the garbage.
the manager’s special incident was weeks ago. i wish i could say i haven’t eaten sugar since. i have. but not out of the garbage.
it’s ok to slip now and then. we would be superhuman if we didn’t. just stand up with a little dust on your pants and keep going. maybe you laugh at yourself a little.