For Valentine’s Day, my DH and daughters wanted to bake a cake for me. They asked what flavor I fancied and I requested a Devil’s Food cake with cream cheese icing.
As lovely as this gesture was, it was also the worst gift anyone could ever give a pregnant mama.
I’ve been so good so far during this pregnancy. I’ve monitored my diet and despite my insatiable appetite for sweets, I have been able to limit my candy and cake consumption. Occasionally, I’ll nibble on a few pieces of dark chocolate or savor a small scoop of ice cream.
At my last OB visit a week before Valentine’s Day, I only gained 11 pounds in 16 weeks. My OB praised me on my efforts to gain a modest amount of weight and encouraged me to keep up good work.
But then the following week, this hideous crack cake little slice of heaven entered my home.
On Valentine’s Day, I enjoyed a small slice with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
The next night, I devoured three slices. I ate a small slice in front of the children after dinner, but like a serial closet eater, I inhaled two larger helpings of cake after I put the girls to bed and then I washed it down with a big bowl of vanilla ice cream.
The next night served a similar scene.
On the third night, my guilt got the best of me and I only ate one supersized slice, but the cake taunted me for the rest of the evening. To avoid the temptation of eating more cake, I went to bed but somehow that cake willed me to wake up in the middle of the night. Like a junkie, I craved more cake. I quietly crept into the kitchen only to discover that my husband finished off the rest of the cake. In the end, he robbed me of my fix saved me from another sinful situation.
Damn that, Devil’s Food Cake! I’ve probably sealed my fatty fate with so many nights of sinful indulgence, but heaven forbid! Next time, I’ll request something high in fiber, like a Bran Flake cake.