A piece of cake, that is.
It was my cousin’s first birthday party and she had an enormous, two-tiered (yes, two-tiered) birthday cake. Check out this thing, it’s over-the-top!
I’ve been waiting all week for this cake, with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream.
Birthday cake. There’s just something so charming about it’s simplicity. The ingredients are uncomplicated– sugar, eggs, milk, flour, and a bit of vanilla– but the resulting flavours and textures make (briefly) forgetting about the bikini worthwhile. This particular piece of cake was my dinner. I’ll admit that a meal of refined flour, refined sugar, and not a vegetable in sight wasn’t exactly the healthiest choice. I’ll also admit that I’m happy that I indulged and here’s why:
I didn’t eat the piece of cake after stuffing my face full of unhealthy snacks/appetizers,
I didn’t eat the piece of cake because I was trying to escape stress,
and I didn’t eat the piece of cake mindlessly.
I ate the cake as a reminder that, on occasion, I can satisfy my sweet tooth and not feel bad about it (emphasis on the “on occasion”). If I don’t let myself do this, then I can guarantee that this summer will be my only bikini birthday.