I wasn’t feeling particularly cute or sexy today. So I baked a cake. No judgement please, it’s my comfort food. The more productive and uplifting thing to do would be go for a walk, do some housework, or go shopping (lol) but when you’re not feeling too good about things in particular yourself nothing perks you up like a nice sweet piece of cake. Before the cake could come out of the oven good I was tearing open the frosting eating a spoonful. Never mind the cooling off period I prefer my frosting melting on the cake anyway. As I’m standing there eating the cake right out of the pan it dawns on me that I have replaced sex with food. Since my break up with Mr. Dysfunctional and my rebound from the rebound with the spider I unknowingly took a vow of celibacy but not really. My new lover is food. A few weeks ago I went for my annual checkup and when the nurse read the weight I had to look around to see who she was talking to and make sure she didn’t also have her ass on the scale with me.
I threw the spoon in the sink, well I ate another bite…ok two then threw it in the sink, sent a few texts, showered, upset myself even more trying to squeeze into designer jeans that I could barely fit anymore. I was determined to get out of the house, be admired, flirted with, lusted after, and feel better about myself. Dammit, I needed confirmation. What’s this…A, or B is not available and the ever reliable option C is out of town. Ok, desperate times calls for desperate measures, there’s always one of the reserves. I’m going to need a strong drink to deal with him. I make me a drink, neat finger swirl the ice and turn the tv on. He’s headed home and will call me when he gets in. I un buckle my jeans so I can relax, and by that I mean breathe and refresh my drink. I need something salty, I make popcorn. Flipping through channels hey my show Being Mary Jane. Now my phone is buzzing and for some reason it annoys me so I ignore it. Commercial, I go put the popcorn bowl in the sink, finger a small piece of the cake, refresh my refreshed drink, and check my phone. He’s home…”where do I want to meet?” he asks. “I’ve had a few drinks, I better not drive.” I take another sip and now I’m mad at Mary Jane. She live in a glass house, she’s a size 5 max, drive a fancy car and has millionaires trying to date her. What’s she got to complain about? He replies back. “Well I can come to you, I can pick you up or we can chill at your spot?” Unt unt no way. Then I’d have to think of clever ways to get you to leave because I’m too polite to say you gots to go? No thanks. I hit him back with the maybe next time. He hit me back with a please and come on and why you tripping and now I realize why he’s in the reserve. I am now rolling my eyes to the high heavens because Mary Jane baked a cake she didn’t even eat URGH! Later in the episode when she was rejected by her love interest I felt better HA HA…ok so she has problems to. I hit him back and said I was calling it a night and I’d catch him next time. At the end of the day when you Bout That Single Life you can decide that if something is going to spread your hips then leave you feeling empty when it’s gone…it’s best to get like Anna Mae and just take the cake.