Caked out

Every year it happens. How could it not? With seven birthdays of just my immediate family over the last three months, not to mention the majority of Mizz's class and some of my closest friends, by the middle of July the mere mention of cake makes my stomach a little wary if not outright distressed. And I love cake. I love the word cake. And all the images that go through my head when I think about the word cake. But for now, please no more. Because while I like to think that I have a reasonably healthy amount of willpower when it comes to monitoring what I consume, attending nine, yes nine birthday events in the last two months has put me over some sort of edge trimmed with a whole lotta frosting.