Fat girls of the world, please forgive me. For this weekend at my aunt’s wedding reception I fulfilled a fat girl stereotype. I stole a piece of cake.
Actually, I stole two pieces of cake.
However, I didn’t get caught! If I’d gotten caught, I may have set back the fat girl acceptance movement by a few years. By being sneaky I think I only set us back a few weeks. Okay, maybe a month or two.
I was sitting at a table with a couple of my aunts, an uncle, and two first cousins once removed (that’s a tricky plural) when the waiters served us cake. Yes, there were actual servers! In little black vests. How fancy! My aunt had gotten maybe two bites into her apple spice cake when she got up to snatch a piece of the armadillo cake from a passing waiter. Yes, that’s a cake in the shape of an armadillo like in the film Steel Magnolias. It was even red velvet cake so when you cut it open it looked like the creature was bleeding.
Then the DJ started spinning “YMCA.” Like flys to honey everyone at the table headed to the dance floor with my aunt leaving her pieces of cake unguarded.
I had already eaten my slice of apple spice cake and was drooling for more. I stared at my aunt’s piece of cake. She must not want that piece of cake, I thought. She got up and got a different piece instead. It would be a shame to waste a piece of cake. It would make baby Jesus cry. So I leapt up, snatched that plate, devoured the slice of cake and then shoved the empty plate onto my uncle’s place setting. Fat girl’s first rule of stealing food: always get rid of the evidence.
Baby Jesus must have been really happy I didn’t make him cry because then my brother came over from his table with another slice of apple spice cake. He’d grabbed it from my cousin who has type I diabetes and couldn’t eat it.
So I ate that piece too.
Thank you diabetes and dancing!
The DJ kept spinning hokey tunes people like dancing to at weddings, giving the servers enough time to swoop in and completely clear our table before anyone got back. They took all the plates, even the ones that had food on them. Thus all evidence of my cake stealing was removed from the scene of the crime.
In my own defense, these pieces of cake were really small. They were about 2/3 the size of a slice of bread. So the three pieces combined were probably equivalent to a large wedge sized piece of cake. Also, the aunt I stole the cake from is fatter than me, so in comparison I wasn’t even really the fat girl in this situation.
I don’t feel bad about it anyway. I don’t want to be one of those women who can never take pleasure in food without feeling guilty. That cake was damn good and I could get hit by a bus any day, especially considering the way my brother drove on the way home. Do they not teach kids about adequate following distance in driver’s education anymore? It’s best to enjoy life and good food while you can. Now excuse me, I have to go run 10 miles.