Just Say No To Cake, or Just 6 Bites!


Yesterday was my birthday, and the rest of the week is birthday week. In honor of birthday week, I gave myself the opportunity to go nuts. Well not really, because I didn’t eat the entire piece of cake. I guess I’m starting to see how this whole smaller stomach thing is working. I’ve trained myself to not finish the last bite, and to not eat until I want to throw up and die. My mom, for the first time ever, encouraged me to eat cake. She bought me my most favorite ice cream cake in the world. Mint Chocolate Chip. Just thinking about it kind of makes me want some more. I tasted it, had a couple of bites, and then was able to tell myself when to stop. I think that was my biggest accomplishment, and best birthday present to myself. Today at work, we had cake again for me, because I’m really special and people like to spoil me. I had Carrot Caramel Cheesecake. This cake is so delicious it needs its own blog post, but I won’t do that, because it’s an extremely fat thing of me to do. Anyway, this cake was the perfect combination of cheesecake and carrot cake. I ate six little bites. I savored each bite, and then I gave the rest of my leftovers to someone who was 2 pounds soaking wet and needed it more than I did.

I’m expecting candles in at least one meal per day until Sunday, considering this is birthday week. So far, I have accomplished a lot by not finishing the cake. It’s never the last bite, and at the end of the day, who needs an entire piece of cake– my fat bum sure doesn’t!

Dream, Dream, Dream


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I promised my Mom and Auntie Manny that I would never blog again about making fun of myself. However, this story is a hilarious one. Last night I went to bed at 3:00 am, I had a terrible night and was a grumpy case all night. Anyway, I finally fall asleep, and after watching four too many episodes of RHOBH, and seeing ten thousand commercials for The Keg, I found myself going to bed hungry. I promised myself that the kitchen was the forbidden zone after 8:00 pm. So I stayed in my bed like a proper young lady. Anyway, I had the most INCREDIBLE dream about meat last night. It was like Willy Wonka’s magic land, except with filet mignon, and roast beef, and steak and steak and steak everywhere. It really felt real. So real in fact that I think I started eating my arm by 4:00 am. I wake up this morning at 7:00am to find that I am sleeping in a pool of drool. I have never had a dream that felt so real. It’s sick and funny all at the same time. I’ll chew the meat without swallowing it at this point, I just don’t remember the taste at all.

Someone needs to kick the fat girl out of me. I’m making myself sick!