Wednesday, June 9, 2010

I Want Cake

I will be the first to admit I enjoy the office staple of cake. I love it round, sheet or cup. I don’t care if it’s layered or sponge. If the cake has some sort of frosting or sweet something I am happy.
There are a few occasions that I will turn down said tasty treat.  Very few. This past week was one of those moments.
I have recently started working out and eating a little healthier. Sadly, I can no longer eat like a 12 year old. Don’t get the wrong idea though. I’m not turning vegan nor am I one of those militant folks demanding fresh veggies or I will strike. I am trying to make more intelligent decisions and become more thoughtful in my meal planning. So if I eat a bacon cheeseburger for lunch, I probably shouldn’t eat one for dinner. I will instead go for a salad or maybe grilled chicken. It is painful, but I don’t want to become like the woman that was so large that her skin started to graft to her couch. thank you.
This is where the cake comes in.
First thing one morning at work we had a birthday sheet cake, full of tasty moist layers slathered in colorful sugary frosting for a staff member. I had already enjoyed a breakfast of Mountain Dew and a peanut butter granola bar, so I decided that the cake would be pushing it. I would be strong and decline.
Co-Worker: “Here is a piece of cake.”
Me: “No, thank you.”
Now, one would think that would be enough. An offer is made, I politely declined. I don’t work in the mafia, so it should have ended there.
Co-Worker: Looking at me as if I were slowly growing a third eye in the middle of my forehead, “What? Why not? Have a piece of cake.”
Me: “No, thank you. Really, I am fine.”
I have not had to endure peer pressure like this since my senior prom.
Co-Worker: “Why don’t you want any cake? Just have some.”
Me: “No, thank you. Really, I am fine. I have started working out and trying to eat better so I am going to pass on the cake.”
Co-Worker: Staring at me as if I were speaking Farsi, “Well, that’s dumb. One piece of cake isn’t going to hurt you.”
Me: My patience was beginning to wear thin and again, I said, “No, thank you. I am trying to be good.”
Co-Worker: She wrinkled her brow, desperately trying to understand how on earth I could turn down a slice of cake, “It won’t kill you. You can look at it as a reward. You can just work harder tonight at the gym.”
Me: “Umm… thank you, but no.”
The conversation only ended because I walked out of the break room and hustled to my office.
One woman in the room was diabetic. I hope she made it out without a cake-induced coma.

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