Gigantic, multi-layered, mousse filled chocolate cake.
That is what I was confronted with when I got to work.
Today was my supervisors last day, so of course there was cake.
I took one look at that cake and knew I would have a piece. Assuming there was any left when I came out of my first 80 minute service, one never knows when free food is put in front of massage therapists.
I finished my first service, went into the lounge, cut a piece of cake and put it in my locker. Because seriously, if you’ve ever worked in an office - you know how people are when there is free food, especially when it’s a giant, rich cake with chocolate mousse between the layers.
After my next 80 minute service I went into the lounge and had my lunch. Chicken salad - rotisserie chicken, celery, onion, toasted almond slices, homemade vinaigrette. Yes, you’ve read that recipe a bunch of times, it’s one of my favorites. My dad invented it for me years ago, we were having a picnic when we spread my grampas ashes and dad said he was making chicken salad. I said, can you PLEASE make something without mayonnaise? I freaking hate mayonnaise . . . and I'm a little afraid of it. So he did and I’ve been eating it ever since.
The point of all that is - I ate my actual LUNCH before eating the giant piece of decadent chocolate mousse cake. There was no doubt I would have promptly been in a coma had I just eaten the cake or eaten it first. Giving three more services would have been out of the question if I was in a coma. And that would have been a BIG problem for my continued state of employment.
So I et the cake.
Well, I et the piece of cake that I cut. It wasn’t ginormous, but the cake was ginormous so the small piece that I cut wasn’t exactly small.
It was tasty.
But I expected transcendence. It wasn’t that. It was tasty. But that’s it. How it looks and how it tastes - two entierly different things.
The trick is to remember that the next time I’m confronted with a ginourmous fantastic looking cake. My brain responds like Pavlovs dogs to chocolate cake, it really believes that I want that cake, but it is really, really wrong.
Next time I tell my brain to get over itself.
We’ll both be MUCH happier.