Red Velvet Lips

Standing in front of our gilded mirror, I ran a hand down the side of my spotless white tube dress. The punishing cardio and calorie counting had been working. I looked great in this dress. The new diamond on my finger caught the sunlight streaming through the entryway window. Three-carat and princess-cut, the diamond sparkled brilliantly.

           This dress, the ring, my fiancé were all perfect. This engagement party would be too.

           I smiled at my reflection, but it didn’t look quite right.

           A timer dinged in the kitchen, stealing my attention. After slipping on an apron, I pulled the cake pans out of the oven. The smell of chocolate wafted to my face. Instantly, my stomach rumbled, and my mouth salivated.

           It had been six weeks since I’d had processed sugars but tonight, I was going to cave and have a piece. We were celebrating, after all.

           Mike came in just as I started to ice the top of the cake. He wrapped his arms around my midsection and laid his head on my shoulder. I loved how clingy he could be.  

           “That’s looking good.” His deep voice rumbled down my spine. “Oops. You got some icing on your ring.”

           I smiled and waggled my diamond-clad finger. Sure enough, a glob of icing covered the diamond. “This thing catches everything.” I gave a light laugh and brought my hand to my face intending to playfully lick it clean.

           But Mike’s hand caught my wrist. “Don’t.” He almost sounded angry. “There’s a rag right here.” I turned to him as he polished the ring clean, trying to read his expression. When he looked up at me though, he smiled his usual, heart-breaker smile. I must have imagined the anger.

           “It’s going to be a tough night for you.”

           “What do you mean?” I grinned, thinking he must be messing with me.  

           He pointed with his perfect dimpled chin at the countertop of foods I’d spent the day preparing. “Seeing and smelling all this good food.” His gaze blazed into mine. “And knowing you can’t have any of it.”

           My heart dropped. I’d planned on eating and drinking like everyone else tonight.

           His expression softened. “Stacy, think of how hard you’ve worked. You have been looking so great.”

I looked back down at the half-frosted red velvet cake and swallowed.

           Mike stepped closer, and his hand swept across my stomach. Warmth pooled behind my navel. We’d been together for seven months, and I still had a physical reaction to his touch.

Then his face hardened. “But you don’t want to have this pooch forever, do you?” The fingers, which had been a whisper across my stomach squeezed, bringing his point home.

The action didn’t hurt me physically. But something in my confidence broke off and fluttered to the floor. I turned away, pretending to be very busy frosting the cake, so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes.

I thought I looked great today.

           I surveyed the appetizers one last time: fresh guacamole, deviled eggs, crab rangoons that busted at the seams, zesty jalapeno popper dip, crispy flautas, and—what I would be grazing on—the vegetable plate. Everything was out and ready.

One of the flautas was cock-eyed on an otherwise orderly plate. I went to shift it over and was consumed with the idea of eating it. I peeked over my shoulder. Mike had the game on and was hollering at the TV. He’d never know.

The flautas came out beautiful. The meat and cheese greeting the eater at the mouth of the tortilla. The rolled-up taco was inches from my teeth when the doorbell rang, effectively snapping me from the food hypnosis.

           What was I thinking? I mentally chided myself. I’m not going to lose weight by sneaking bites of food. Appalled, I chunked the flauta in the trash. “Mike, it sounds like people are here!” I called.

           I checked my mascara in the hallway mirror one last time. I’d had to fix it after Mike’s comment, earlier. It looked fine, now. You’d never know I spent half the day trying not to cry. My auburn hair, which I’d pulled into a savagely tight bun looked sophisticated, and my maroon lipstick had been expertly applied. It hadn’t been intentional, but the shade color-matched the interior of the red velvet cake—a stunning contradiction to my porcelain skin tone.

Still, I couldn’t help my gaze from drifting to my stomach. I’d actually thought I looked good in this dress. I’d purchased it because I wanted something to hug my curves. Too bad that included my belly fat.

           I sucked in as much as I could and answered the door, hoping my smile looked genuine.

           I tried to enjoy my engagement party. I really did. I’d moved away from home to be with Mike. My friends and family couldn’t make the four-hour drive for an engagement dinner party, and I didn’t blame them. Instead, I focused on being the gracious host, the sweetheart fiancé. But as the evening wore on, my attention drifted from the conversation with Mike’s friends and family and instead zeroed in on what they were eating.

           While I crunched on my carrots, Mike’s sister moaned and complimented the cheesy rangoons. His coworker doted on my jalapeno popper dip. His uncle smacked while eating the deviled eggs. My stomach rumbled viciously, but it was drowned out by the chatter in our crowded kitchen.

           All the while, I stayed strong. Perfect, I told myself. I’m going to be the perfect wife with the perfect body.

           It wasn’t until the cake-cutting that I waivered. I pushed the knife down into the spongy cake to reveal its seductive red velvet interior. As plates were passed around and the slices dispersed, my hands shook.

           I was so hungry, and the cake looked so good.

           I watched Mike take the biggest slice. He leaned forward, and I stupidly thought he was giving the piece to me, but instead, he just reached around me to get a fork.

           He shoveled a bite into his mouth and groaned. “It’s too bad you can’t have any of this, Stacy. It's so good.” Pieces flew from his still-full mouth as he spoke.

           My eyes narrowed then dipped to his waistband, specifically to the bulge over his belt. Obsessed with my own weight gain, I hadn’t noticed Mike putting on a few pounds himself.

           I waited to feel something: disgust, possibly my attraction for him waning. But I didn’t feel any of that. It was just a stomach. I looked down at the slight rounding under my navel. What did that pooch say about me?

           That I’m not a marathon runner. I’m fortunate enough to eat three meals a day. My metabolism is slowing down. I’m not perfect.

           I’m human.

           The longer I looked at my stomach, the more I liked the soft slope of it. How it seemed to balance out the sharper parts of me.

           My body working before my mind could get in the way, I slipped off the perfect three-carat, princess-cut, diamond ring and dropped it onto Mike’s plate. The plink of it ringed with finality.  

           His attention snapped to me, eyes rounding.

           “I’ll trade you,” I said, then grabbed a fistful of red velvet cake off his plate. It squished through my fingers on the way to my mouth, pieces of it crumbling onto my chest and the hardwood floor.

           The quiet shock filled the room, stuffing my ears like cotton. Keenly aware of everyone’s eyes on me, I shut my own. I didn’t want anything interfering with the sensory explosion as I took my first bite of sugar in weeks.

           My knees trembled with anticipation as I inhaled the aroma of the cake. I parted my lips and moaned as the rich chocolate and light buttercream swirled on my tongue—sweeter than any kiss I’d shared with Mike.  

           Hand clutching the remainder of my crumbling piece, I turned on my heel.

           “Stacy, wait!” Mike exclaimed, his emotions a hybrid of shock and outrage.

           I didn’t slow my pace, instead, I took another bite of cake so good, it was downright sinful. My purse hung from a hook in our mudroom. I snatched it and wrapped it across my chest, sending another avalanche of crumbs to the floor.

           Passing the hallway mirror, I paused. My once pure white dress had been assaulted with red velvet.

           A glob of ivory icing stuck to the corner of my dark red lips. I licked it off, then smacked them. The smile that unrolled was genuine and perfect.

           Absolutely perfect.