Don’t tell anyone. You have to swear to keep this a secret. For breakfast I ate two pieces of berry crumb coffee cake and a large, very large piece of birthday cake. In addition to wanting to throw up, I want to hide my head in shame. Why would I want to jeopardize all the hard word I do at the gym every day? I don’t know. I don’t know. Guilt overwhelms me.
It’s my friend’s fault. She made me do it. Last night was her birthday party. As I was leaving she wrapped up the birthday and coffee cake. “No, no. Really, I don’t want any.” “Yes. Here. Take some home.” “No, no. Really.” The plate was already in my hand.
Even if I hated it, which I didn’t, I would have had to take the cake. It’s only polite.
However, politeness had nothing to do with eating three pieces of carb hell for breakfast. Why didn’t I stop after one piece? Compulsive sugar binge. There’s no other way to describe it. Self will run riot. Total loss of control. Can’t anyone stop me?
I can’t put all the blame on my friend. I do have to accept responsibility for my part in this debauchery. I was in charge of the cake. I bought the most decadent birthday cake available—buttercream frosting, cheesecake filling, and probably some other evil sugar loaded ingredient. I wouldn’t want my friend to think I scrimped on the cake for her special day.
And, drum roll please—birthday girl is my workout buddy. Why would she do this to me? Really, though, can I blame her. It’s only fair. After all I brought the cake. I was planning my sugar overload when I ordered the cake and again when I picked it up. This sugar binge didn’t happen by accident. Nope, it was planned. “It’s just one day,” we said to each other. Permission granted. Go ahead.
It’s over now though. The cake is gone. I now own all the calories—probably in the neighborhood of 3,000. But what’s done is done.
It’s been 8 hours since breakfast. I don’t think I can eat anything. I really feel sick. But when I do, it won’t be cake.