Birthday...pie?

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!