Or The Nothing Is Ever Going To Be Okay Again If I Don’t Have Chocolate Cake Cake. So, here is the promised Oh My God, Is That Chocolate Cake? Give It To Me Right Now Cake. And while I’m happy to tell you that my interest in most foods (except for chicken, sweet potatoes and soup, they know what they did) has returned, my devotion to these categories hasn’t waned in the slightest. I recently warned (threatened?) that I might have to exclusively dedicate this space for a while to a few currently acceptable categories, those that involve butter, bread, peanut butter or chocolate. And I regretted that when I asked my husband why we didn’t have any chocolate cake, he said “because you haven’t made any?” He was correct - I’d made them dinner, instead - and the great unraveling of all that had once been right and good but failed to lead me to chocolate cake continued. I regretted not licking every beater of chocolate buttercream that had ever crossed my path when I worked at a bakery in high school. I needed a piece of chocolate cake so badly that I began to regret every cupcake shop I’d ever walked past and not gone in during the height of the mid-aughts cupcake craze. Except the word “wanted” doesn’t accurately describe the craving it was suddenly everything. on a day I had consumed mostly air and maybe a slice of toast because I couldn’t for the life of me imagine how food had ever tasted good, without any warning, I wanted a slice of chocolate cake with swirls of chocolate frosting and probably some sprinkles and the sprinkles, so help them, better be rainbow.
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