Well I didn't really pop a baby shower cake out of my hoo-ha, but it certainly did feel like it. Anyone that has ever made a large, over the top cake knows how the hours spent in discomfort can feel strangely similar to giving birth.
It always starts off innocently enough. You start by entertaining absurd thoughts like, "Oh wouldn't it be wonderful if I had one of those amazing (low-maintenance) creatures for myself."
I mean really just how much of my limited resources could that tiny little thing suck up anyways.
I mean there is no way on earth that tiny little thing could need 7 pounds of butter and 4 dozen eggs. No way!!
I'm absolutely positive that there is no way that after methodically sifting, mixing, and wrapping 7 cakes that any of them are going to be anything less than perfect.
Then there are the additional supplies those little babies need. After all you can't buy the special items you are going to need for this baby in any old store and believe me once they get you in you are done for. The "while I'm here" instinct kicks in immediately and before you know it you have a whole cart full of necessary (cough, cough) items.
Then you realize your sweet little cherub isn't quite dressed well enough and needs a little more pizzazz, so you decide a few little blingy doo-dads are in order.
The fatal flaw is that they need more, they just need more.
In your somewhat delusional state of happiness you decide if one is good, two has to be better. Right?
Before you know it 1 has turned into 90 little labors of love.
Yet those nagging doubts of not being good enough (or moist enough) just won't leave your already crowded head space.
Sometimes if you listen to those crappy thoughts long enough they become a self fulfilling prophecy.
Yep it was true I gave birth to a tasty, yet a tad dry cake. The only redeeming thing about the whole process is that if you give birth to enough cakes some of them are bound to come out as exemplary examples.
So I guess I will just have to press on and give birth a few more times until I'm happy with my offspring. The sickest part is; I get to eat my subpar offspring. Holy crap, what kind of sicko am I?
p.s. Please don't eat your subpar offspring until I consult with my attorney to find out in which states that it is still legal.