Tuesday, October 19, 2010


Last week sometime, I was talking to my mother on the phone and we were picking a day to get the whole family together to celebrate my birthday.  As we were planning away, she asked me a question I hadn’t even thought about. 

“Do you want me to make you a cake?”

For as long as I can remember, everyone in my family always get a homemade cake from my mom for their birthday.  We each have our own choice flavor combos of cake and frosting, as well.  My dad is chocolate/chocolate.  So is my sister.  But, I am a yellow cake/chocolate frosting kind of girl.  Oh…and my cake has to be made in a heart shaped pan.  Every single year.  Because I am a brat. 

We would have birthday dinner, followed by a huge piece of cake.  And then maybe I would have another one before bed.  Then, I would have a piece for breakfast.  And take a piece in my lunch to school.  I literally could not think about anything else until it was gone. 

As an adult, I loved this tradition even more.  It was comforting.  And delicious.  I mean it’s birthday cake, right?  No one feels guilty about eating Birthday cake!  Even when I was on a diet, I would ALWAYS allow myself a piece.

But this year I couldn’t have birthday cake.  It wasn’t even a choice for me.  So I told my mother not to even make one.  It was too much of a temptation to even see it there, as I’m absolutely sure I would have risked the potential dumping and had a piece.

So, for the first time since I can remember I wouldn’t have my delicious, heart shaped, chocolate frosted, yellow birthday cake.  And I was sad.  For about 10 seconds.

Until my mom said, “Well…what would you like for dinner?”  and I said the first thing that came into my head. 

“Chicken pie and mashed potatoes.”

I don’t know why I picked that.  Maybe I thought it would be something easy to eat.  Maybe it’s because I haven’t had it in awhile.  Whatever the reason, it ended up being the perfect meal on a cold fall New England day.  I had a satisfying portion and even got a “doggy bag” to take home, which I had for two additional meals in the next few days. 

My mom even made an apple cake (kind of like coffee/spice cake with chunks of apples/nuts/raisins in it...so delish!) for everyone. And by everyone, I mean my father and brother-in-law…who I’m fairly sure wrestled for the leftover cake when I left.  So, I snagged a few bites of that.  And I didn’t miss “my” cake at all.  

So, I thought I would share this with you guys.  Just to show you that, even 8 months post op, I continue to occasionally struggle with food.  I miss some of my favorites, but in the end, I always realize that food is never as important as I think it is.  In fact, when I think about what I’ve gone through to get here…it’s easy to say "no."  

All I have to do is remind myself that nothing will ever taste as good as skinny feels!


  1. You never fail to both amuse me and still bring tears to my eyes! Happy 29 years!

  2. I have really enjoyed following your blog and its inspiring that you have taken charge of your life and health discovering the true confident, proud, and beautiful woman you have always been underneath.

    I am a little concerned though with some of your recent posts... especially summed up with your final sentence here 'nothing tastes as good as skinny feels' please do not get sucked into the vortex of weight and food obsession... live your life and don't think so such about the superficial numbers

  3. The pie looks absolutely amazing. Can't wait to try it out.