“I don’t want you,” I think as I eye the Magnolia Bakery chocolate chocolate cupcake my friend thoughtfully deposited at my apartment the day before.
“You can eat a cupcake, right?” She’d asked at the time, extending the white paper bag for me to take.
My stomach had grimaced in response. “Err… sure!” I’d enthused while secretly thinking, “No, no no, I can’t eat a cupcake!”
She’d beamed at me. “Great!”
I’d beamed back.
There had been much beaming indeed.
Until she’d left.
“I can’t eat this.” I’d thought then. “I feel fat. My jeans are tight. I have a date tonight. I need to fit into my dress for blogger prom in ten days...”
So I’d ignored the cupcake. Let it sit in its pristine white box for 28 hours without so much as glancing in its general direction. Soon it would be dry and stale and completely unpalatable. I could just throw it out. Pretend it never existed.
That was the plan.
Or at least it was yesterday.
I continue eyeing the cupcake that I absolutely positively don’t want.
“Why do you have to look so pretty?” I think, jutting my lower lip out into a childish pout.
I remove the cupcake from its container and observe the silky mound of chocolate frosting. I poke at the cake underneath with an index finger. Even though my friend bought it two days ago it still feels tender to the touch.
“I can’t throw it out.” I decide. “It’s still good. And she gave it to me. To eat. Not to deposit in the garbage bin alongside the banana peels and broccoli stumps.”
I carefully extract the cupcake from the wrapper and place it on a plate. I know now it’s going to happen. Once it’s been undressed, there’s no turning back.
I’m going to get down and dirty with the cupcake.
Even if it’s stale. Even if the frosting is hard, crusty and partially crystallized. Even if I gives me a stomachache and an addition jiggle to my thighs.
Except it’s not stale. The spongey cake has spring in its crumbs and buoyancy that is usually reserved for young cupcakes fresh from the oven. The heap of almost overpowering chocolate buttercream frosting is seductively smooth and light on the tongue. So much so that I can’t leave the excess on my plate. I scoop it up like mousse, savoring the high quality semisweet chocolate that oozes forth from every bite.
It’s a near-perfect chocolate cupcake. Whimsical in appearance, yet refined in its flavor – a specimen that could please both adults and children.
Tonight, however, it just pleases me. Even if I do feel fat. Even if my jeans are tight. Even if I do have blogger prom in 10… err… 9 days.
There’s no regret.
I beam at the empty plate and say out loud for no one but myself to hear, “Yes, I can eat a cupcake.”
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