Journal of a Cake Addict

Journal of a Cake Addict

October 1st – Day 1 of Cake Control

Dear Diary,

I’ve done it. I’ve decided to face my addiction head-on. I, Geraldine Butterworth, have a confession to make. It’s not what you’re thinking—I’m not addicted to something normal like coffee, Netflix, or online shopping. No, my confession, dear Diary, is far more scandalous. Brace yourself.

I am a cake scoffer!

Cake, glorious cake, in all its sugar-laden, frosting-covered, spongy perfection.

Yes, you read that correctly. I indulge in the delicious, fluffy, frosting-drenched world of cake behind closed doors, while projecting an image of a fitness guru to the world. My friends think I’m all about kale smoothies and quinoa salads, but little do they know that at precisely 3:30 PM every day, I open the secret portal that is my kitchen and embark on my sugary escapades.

It started innocently enough, of course. A slice here, a slice there. But what began as casual indulgence has spiraled into a full-blown obsession. Birthdays, weddings, office parties—I was only ever there for the cake. But lately, I’ve taken it a step further. I’ve started buying whole cakes.

For myself.

With no party.

No reason.

Just… cake.

I realized I had a problem when I found myself sneaking into the bakery like some sort of frosting junkie, whispering to the cashier, “One red velvet, no questions.” She didn’t even blink. Clearly, they’ve seen my kind before.

But today is the day I begin my Cake Control Journey. I’m going to limit myself to one slice of cake per week. No more midweek emergencies where I pretend I’m celebrating a “personal milestone” just to justify the purchase of a triple-layer chocolate fudge cake.

I can do this.

I think.

October 3rd – Day 3 of Cake Control

Dear Diary,

You have a tendency to judge, I can tell. I can imagine you with a raised eyebrow, whispering, “Geraldine, why not simply embrace the deliciousness of cake in the light of day?”

Well, dear Diary, it’s because of my ever-watchful neighbor, Mildred. She’s the neighborhood’s unofficial health police. Trust me, her parked Prius is always equipped with a binocular lens and a judgmental gaze. If she spots me with a crumb of double chocolate cake, I’m pretty sure she’ll show up on my doorstep with an entire pamphlet on the benefits of fiber.

So, my room (a.k.a. The Cake Hideout) has become my sanctuary. Today, I adorned my space with an assortment of cake supplies: sprinkles, whipped cream, and a secret stash from Mrs. Baker’s Bakery. I’m practically a modern-day Picasso, if Picasso had a fondness for ganache instead of oil paints!

Also, I walked past the bakery today on my way to work, and I swear, the cakes were calling me. My stomach did a little dance like it was auditioning for Dancing with the Stars. I did not, I repeat, did not go inside.

I deserve a medal.

Or at least a cupcake.

Wait.

No.

Scratch that.

NO CUPCAKES.

I need to stop thinking about cake.

I had a salad for lunch. It was miserable and had no frosting.

October 5th – Day 5 of Cake Control

Dear…oh never mind!

Disaster.

Total, complete disaster.

It all started innocently enough. Just a typical Friday at the office, or so I thought. But then Susan from HR had a birthday. A birthday, and with it came a cake—an enormous, beautiful, double-layer sponge with cream cheese frosting that looked like clouds sent from heaven. I stood at a distance, minding my business, sipping my sad little herbal tea like you do, while my colleagues gathered around the cake like moths to a flame.

I tried to leave.

I did.

But then someone (probably Satan himself) handed me a slice. What was I supposed to do? Say no? I’m not a monster. I thought, “I’ll just have a bite. Just one tiny bite.”

That was the first lie.

One bite turned into two, then three, and then suddenly, the entire slice was gone. And—oh, the shame—I went back for another slice. No one questioned it because, you know, it’s a party. But in my mind, I knew I had failed. I could have cried into that frosting, but I didn’t because that would be wasteful.

So to make myself feel better, when I arrived home I sat in the dark corner of my kitchen with a decadent slice of carrot cake (yes, it counts as a vegetable), I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if I just came clean about my cake cravings.

“What’s that, Geraldine? Me? Serious?” I can hear you scoff from across the pages. But you know, if I confessed to my friends, what if the world actually embraced cake? Imagine: we’d all sit around on the couch, eating cake for breakfast instead of the obligatory avocado toast. We could have cake parties instead of boring old book clubs! “Oh, what are you reading? A well-researched historical analysis?” “No, Karen! We’re having a chocolate cake discussion, prioritize!” Such a dream!

I need a new plan. Cake Control has failed.

October 6th-Day 6 of CakeImNotInControl

Dear Diary,

Today I was on a mission—Operation Cake Alert—after receiving a tip from my cake-loving colleague, Martha. She said she found this exquisite bakery that sells a cupcake called “The Forbidden Double Fudge Delight” and I simply had to try it. I was practically drooling like a golden retriever watching a pizza delivery guy.

In my covert operation, I decided to wear a disguise: oversized sunglasses, a sun hat, and a trench coat. You know, the classic ‘I’m totally incognito because I’m not supposed to be eating cake’ look. My plan was going smoothly until I got hit squarely in the face by an awkwardly swinging bakery door, sending my sunglasses flying and a bunch of bewildered customers staring.

Talk about a cover blown! But it didn’t matter, because I triumphed! A bulletproof cupcake in hand, I hurried back home to face the music of my rapidly beating heart and my ever-growing addiction.

October 7th – Day 7 of Cake Rehab

Dear IsThereAnyoneOutThere,

I’m calling it “Cake Rehab” now. It sounds more serious, like I’m really committing to it.

After the office birthday fiasco, I’ve decided that I can’t rely on sheer willpower alone. I need a strategy. I’m banning all cake from my apartment. I’ve thrown away my emergency cake stash (yes, of course I had one), deleted the number of my favorite bakery from my phone, and unsubscribed from all bakery newsletters. It was hard, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

Admittedly all that was after I savoured my last treasure—a cake inspired by the moon (don’t ask; it was just an excuse for glitter).

I also told my friend Katie about my addiction, thinking she’d be supportive. Her response? “Wait, you eat that much cake? I thought you were into yoga and green smoothies.”

The betrayal. I do yoga! But apparently, the cake has overshadowed everything else about me. This has gone too far.

Maybe I could start a social media campaign! “Cake Fanatics Anonymous!” With hashtags like #CakeInTheDark and #SecretSnackers, I could create a community that embraces the joy of cake-loving! I’d be the David Bowie of the dessert world: a sweet sugar overlord with followers who appreciate the true art of baking on the sly.

October 9th – Day 9 of Cake-free Living

Dear Judgmental Diary,

Day 9 without cake. I feel… strange. Like I’m not quite myself. Is this what detox feels like?

I had dreams about cake last night. Giant slices of rainbow cake with layers of frosting as tall as buildings. I was trying to climb one but kept sliding down the frosting. It was both horrifying and delicious.

I woke up with frosting on my mind, but I made a smoothie instead. It tasted like sadness.

On the bright side, I think my skin is clearing up. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

October 12th – Cake Temptation Strikes Again

Dear WhyAmITalkingToMyself Diary,

I swear, the universe is testing me. Today, I went to the grocery store to buy vegetables, like the responsible adult I’m pretending to be, and there, right at the entrance, was a huge display of cakes.

On sale no less.

Every type you can imagine—chocolate, vanilla, strawberry shortcake, tiramisu.

And there, at the center, was my Achilles’ heel: a triple-chocolate mousse cake with extra ganache.

EXTRA GANACHE!

I stood there, frozen. My inner voice was screaming, “Walk away! Save yourself while you still can!” But another voice, a quieter, sneakier voice, said, “You could buy just one. Just one small cake. No one has to know.”

I left the store with a bag of kale.

I hate kale.

But I resisted.

I RESISTED.

October 15th – Cake Negotiations

Dear Diary,

I’ve been thinking. Maybe I’ve been too harsh on myself. Maybe this whole cold turkey thing is unrealistic. People don’t just quit cake, do they? No one says, “I used to have a terrible cake habit, but now I only eat celery.”

Oh…vegans. Vegans do.

That’s not human.

But anyway, here’s my new plan: cake negotiations.

I’ll allow myself a small slice of cake twice a week. No whole cakes, no emergency cakes hidden in cupboards, and definitely no middle-of-the-night trips to the bakery. This is a compromise, a middle ground. It’s about balance.

Besides, life without cake is… sad.

October 18th – Cake Negotiation Day 1

Dear Wonderful Diary,

I’m a genius!

Cake negotiations are the answer!

EUREKA!

Today, I allowed myself a ‘modest’ slice of lemon drizzle cake.

It was heaven.

Just the right amount of sweet and tart, with a delicate glaze that made me feel like I was floating on a cloud of citrus joy.

I ate it slowly, savouring each bite, like a civilized person.

No guilt.

No shame.

Just pure cake bliss.

I think I may have cracked the code to happiness.

This is going to work.

I can feel it in my water!

October 20th – The Slippery Slope

Dear Diary,

Well…oops.

Okay, so maybe cake negotiations aren’t as foolproof as I thought.

It started innocently enough. I had my allotted slice of vanilla sponge cake in the afternoon, sticking to my plan. But then, after dinner, I felt this tug. This tiny voice in the back of my mind, nagging me, “Just one more slice. You’ve been so good. You deserve it.”

And I have been.

And I did.

I tried to ignore it, I really did. But the cake in the fridge was calling me. It was like a siren song, luring me to my frosted doom. Before I knew it, I was standing in the kitchen with a fork, halfway through the remaining half of the cake. I don’t even remember grabbing the fork. I blacked out in a frosting-induced haze.

I ate the whole thing.

It was gone. Like a magic trick.

Except instead of applause, I felt only regret.

October 23rd – Cake Rock Bottom

Diary,

It’s official. I’ve hit rock bottom.

Today, I found myself googling “How to bake a cake in a mug” at 2 AM. The craving hit me like a freight train, and I couldn’t resist. I found a recipe that involved microwaving flour, sugar, cocoa powder, and butter for 60 seconds, and suddenly I was whisking together a mini chocolate cake at an hour when normal people are sleeping.

It wasn’t even a good cake. It was dry, unevenly cooked, and weirdly spongy. But did that stop me from devouring the whole thing in one sitting? No, it did not!

I ate every sad, lumpy bite.

I need help.

October 25th – Cake Surrender

Dear Diary (sigh),

After much soul-searching, I’ve come to a conclusion: I will never defeat cake. Cake will always be a part of me, like my love for dogs or my tendency to trip over something that’s not even there.

I can’t quit.

I don’t want to quit.

But I can learn to live with it.

So here’s the deal—I’m surrendering, but in a controlled, healthy way. I will have cake when the occasion truly calls for it. Not because I had a tough day at work or because Susan from HR has another birthday (seriously, does she age twice as fast as everyone else?). But when the moment is right, I’ll enjoy my slice of cake.

Guilt free.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll keep a tiny emergency cake in the freezer for those really bad days.

October 28th – Cake Acceptance

Dear Diary,

It’s been a journey, but I think I’m finally at peace with my relationship with cake. It’s not perfect, but then what is?

I’ve learned that cake is not the enemy, nor am I its helpless victim. We’re partners in this sweet, sugar-filled dance.

Today, I had a small slice of strawberry shortcake, and it was perfect.

And that’s enough, for now.

I may not be able to quit cake, but honestly… why would I want to?

Until next time, dear Diary—where I bravely explore the world of pie…

Yours deliciously,

Geraldine Butterworth.