Let Them Eat Cake

Kate Moss said once that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. I remember being fifteen and deciding one night at an Italian restaurant while eating a slice of chocolate cake that it would be my last. I didn't eat another bite of cake for two years. Kate Moss was right: diminishing myself into nothing wasn't just rewarding, it was the death sentence I had been looking for.

That paragraph is horrible, isn't it? I can't believe I just wrote that, a sprinkle of cosmic, toxic thought put out into the internet. But if you want to get to know me, really, the real me - you have to know that I love cake exponentially, that I now have low blood sugar, and cake is the perfect remedy to starting the nosedive into low blood sugar oblivion.

To jiggle the handle, you need to know that cake is my favorite guilty pleasure. Sure, I don't eat it often, but when I allow myself to do so, it tastes better than a thousand flutters of Kate Moss's toxic, wasteland of a mantra leaving her lips.

To jiggle the handle, you need to know that I am one bite away from insanity, but that leveling out my blood sugar will make me function, love, be the best person I can be.

Let me eat cake.