Wednesday, January 12, 2011

yellow cake & chocolate icing

I caught on a person's status update a few days ago that her newest cravings involved fried oysters with black beer, and yellow cake with milk chocolate icing. The first one, the oysters and beer sounded edgy and romantic, sure; it was the second one that got me.

You know when you have a craving for something, whether it's the crispy wings of a rotisserie chicken or raw cookie dough ice cream, it's hard to shake. Is this a woman thing having to do with hormones, or a simple hard-headed mildly obsessive complex?

The main story in a waiting room Reader's Digest once told me to trust my food cravings, no matter how sugary or off-the-wall, saying if you're intuitive enough to listen to your body communicating, it will tell you when your vitamin levels are deficient.

Moderation is the key, stressed the article. So if you're craving beef or red wine, your body's low on iron, dairy means calcium, so on.

Being four months along, I've yet to notice a substantial change in my appetite. I have been craving more than a modest level of carbohydrates: bread and butter, English muffins, fried food, and thought this was under control, until I saw the status update involving the yellow cake and milk chocolate icing. In my mind, there are carbs, and then there are sweet carbs, which are nothing but trouble.

Ask someone who lost a massive amount of weight what they had to give up in order to lose 100+ pounds and they'll tell you: muffins, cookies, doughnuts, cupcakes, chocolate ice cream is a big one, but let's stay on course here. Flour + sugar + butter = the devil.

I went to the grocery yesterday, bought a box of yellow cake mix, a small bottle of vegetable oil, a vat of milk chocolate icing and went to town when I got home. I already had three large eggs to add the the batter and butter versus shortening to smear all over the baking trays.

Wearing my right arm out without an electric mixer, I then placed the mostly lump-free raw mix in two baking trays, and inserted them into a preheated oven at 350. I set the egg timer.

One hour later I had two golden cakes ready to stack and ice with milk chocolate frosting. An hour after that, half the cake was gone. Poor me.

What exactly was so deficient in my body that I couldn't thwart off the guilt I experienced after gorging myself like a pig? Was my blood's unnecessary junk meter at an all-time low?

The only thing I can imagine happening to me is that my body wants to put on weight, but that'll make it so hard to do anything. I'll be incapacitated if I gain ten more pounds above what I already weigh at 5'7" and 145 pounds. That's ten more pounds than my normal weight. And I'm supposed to gain fifteen more!

I know people do it all the time in America, become overweight, but isn't it gradual? It seems like what my body is trying to do to me is drastic.

Yesterday I could barely bend over and sweep hair off the bathroom floor because of my condition, and I can only expect it to get worse until June, when I purge a new human into the world.

In the meantime, I'm trying to decide whether or not to throw the other half of that cake I baked last night away. If I don't, I fear I'll eat the rest of it by the end of the night; it's like I'm possessed by a zombie mind control megaphone craving sweet comfort foods.

I rode 1.5 miles on the stationary bike today so far, then heaved myself onto the bed in a sweaty mess with my hand on my heart, deathly afraid of my pulse exceeding 140 beats per minute.

Anyway, I'm going to attempt another 1.5 miles in a few minutes. I figure it's better than nothing. And self-control is the key to being healthy, I suppose. I'm going to try to focus on that when it comes to all of this. Hopefully, everything will come out alright in the end.

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