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Monday, February 16, 2009

Rock Bottom Cheesecake

After I wrote this little story, I decided to go back to the beginning to preface what you are about to read. This story is one of desperation, lust, impulsive decision making, and ecstasy followed by shame, guilt, humiliation and a good laugh. I could have kept this whole thing a secret, even from my dearest love, who will only be learning the truth for the first time by reading this blog post along with the rest of the world, but it is one that I could not bear to tell to his face. I am a coward. Plus, I like to keep it real around here in blog world.

Well, here I am, blogworld. REAL. RAW. EXPOSED.

It started with a simple little birthday. A yearly event I've been celebrating for, ooooh... I'm not sure how long. In reality, my birthday was on a Wednesday, and this was the following Monday, the day we finally got around to celebrating it with my parents.

Mom and I had dropped by Wal-mart to get some odds and ends for dinner that night, and since I couldn't find the little cookies for what I'm told is a fabulous and simple cake, we were searching for an alternative. Mom wanted to make an angel food cake, but I wasn't really feelin' it - I'm more of a chocolate lover or a you want a little cake with that icing? kind of girl. We looked around the deli to see if anything was looking particularly yummy that day and I found a scrum-diddly-umptious alternative to birthday cake - cheesecake!

Now, I'm not really a cheesecake kind of girl. Don't get me wrong, when it's offered, I EAT IT. But it's really not even on my top 20 dessert list. But that day... THAT DAY, it looked perfect.
In a nutshell, we took it home, sliced it up after dinner, and it was heaven.

I meant to take the leftovers home with me. After all, it was my birthday cake. As I was driving back to our apartment that night, my mouth watered thinking about the next piece I would consume. I was ready to park the car and hit the ground running for a fork, spoon, knife - anything to bring the cheesecake from plate to mouth. And then I had a devastating realization - I forgot to take it with me! It was still in the fridge at my parents'. How could the most important thing in my life, in that exact moment, have slipped my ever-lovin' mind? RATS.

Just as well, I thought. That should save me a couple 100,000 calories I didn't need.

But it wasn't just as well. That night I pinched myself several times thinking about the tasty little, kissed by an angel, cake I had left behind. The next day, I wanted it even more. I tried to eat everything else in our kitchen to satisfy the urge for cheesecake, seriously, everything, but nothing could quench my desire.

By Friday, I felt I had kicked the habit. I was gettin' clean, starting a new life, living without cheesecake, that whole 12 step shebang. I headed out to my rotation in Virginia that morning, feeling like a new day was upon me.

At 11:00 am, I had eaten a lean pocket. It was now 3:30 pm, on my way back but still an hour from home, and Wal-mart starts making it's way in my peripheral vision. The right turn signal starts clicking and I've pulled into the parking lot before I've even realized what happened.

My body took me there. My stomach, my taste-buds - they took the wheel and my mind couldn't even comprehend what was happening.

I had other things we needed so I grabbed my cart and went far far away from the deli. I loaded up, almost made it to the cashier, and then it happened again.

My taste-buds steered the cart over to the deli. I prayed it wasn't there. I prayed it was there. I didn't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt.

This story could have ended with me in the car, eating cheesecake with my bare hands. BUT my taste-buds premeditated this crime. I asked the deli lady for a fork. I don't even remember checking out for heaven's sake - I had only one thing on my mind.

The picture tells the rest of the story. I was never so grateful for my tinted windows - how embarrassing if some stranger had noticed! As I sat in the car, realizing the utter ridiculousness of it all, it donned on me that there was still a camera in my purse from house hunting the past weekend. So of course, I took a picture - for prosperity's sake. {What the heck does that even mean anyway?}

Now, I've told you my shame. Once Nick reads this, he will also know my shame. I planned on cutting a clean "pie piece" shape out of the cheesecake once I got home so he didn't know I "drank straight from the carton". But I didn't and he saw it and I led him to believe that I had done that while at home. Lied by omission. It was bad enough that he thought I acted like an uncivilized human being while in the privacy of our own home.

I wrote it off as a purchase for our home cooked Valentine's Day dinner we were doing the next day. I keep telling myself excuses like 'you hadn't eaten enough, your blood sugar was low' or 'it was those darn hormones' fault' and 'who could have driven the next hour home with a cheesecake staring at them from the passenger's seat?'

Don't worry, people. I don't need you all to get together and organize an intervention. I'll voluntarily admit myself to rehab. Either that or take on a second job to pay for my new pants I'm going to have to buy to compensate for the recent cheesecake addiction.

It's just plain old, nothing special Wal-mart cheesecake! Who would have thought? It was better than the most gourmet version just flown in from New York, in my humble opinion. You should totally try it, go get yourself addicted and we can check ourselves into rehab together. Misery loves company.

I also ate it again later that evening, for dessert after every meal since, and as my actual breakfast each morning. Thankfully Nick is eating slices too, so I won't end up knowing I downed the whole thing be myself.

Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. I am a gluttonous human being. Please, give me strength to break this cycle of addiction. And Lord... could you please speed up my metabolism a little bit this week? I need to fit back into my old bathing suits next month for a weekend with my pharmacy school girlfriends. That would be great. AMEN.


  1. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. As I read your post I laughed harder and harder and then I looked over and saw the empty Valentine's box that had once been filled with Turtle candies sitting next to me with chocolate crumbs running down my shirt and in the corners of my mouth. Us, women and our chocolate sweet treats. I comptelely can relate honey. =)

  2. girl I have been there!! just wait till you are pregnant-
    I used to make up stories about errands I had to run on my lunch break and then drive straight to Graeters... and then devour the evidence before I made it back!! : )
    you are too funny!

  3. I saw your comment on Kara's blog and it led me to this post...


    And don't worry, I behave like that even when NOT pregnant! I am very seriously addicted to chocolate. I've already had a candy bar and it's just now 4:00! I could skip dessert to make up for it... but I won't! :)

  4. I too am glad for the tinted windows. But what possesses you to take a picture of the envidence. Never, never, never document the envidence. YOU ARE A WOMAN-NEVER TELL THE MEN WHAT WE DO IN SECRET!!!


I just shared my thoughts, I'd love to hear you share yours! {Besides, I'm tired of listening to the voices in my head.} I kid, I kid... ;)