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Dreaming Of Cake
Diabetes and my relationship with food
Like many overscheduled people, my dreams are often forgotten. Not dreams as in goals, but the musings of my brain during those meager hours of sleep. So it really struck me that a month ago, I woke with a start, cake on my mind.
It was a layer cake, high and frosted. Already sliced, its Fibonacci proportions were on full display, the sections symmetrically spaced with buttercream. Without a thought, a white china plate was in my hand, and I heard the clink of a stainless fork as I cut my first bite.
The cake had a richer crumb than I could produce in my suburban kitchen. The buttercream icing dissolved between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I soaked in the vanilla, the fineness of texture, the sugar making every glucose receptor stand on end.
And then, I woke up and remembered that I can’t just get a slice of cake. Three months ago, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. It’s a terrible blow for someone who loves food.
I decided to tell my family and friends, so they wouldn’t wonder about the change in my eating habits. My friend’s group found out while we kayaked on Ohio’s Little Miami River.
“Really?” one friend exclaimed. “You don’t even look like the body type for someone with that!”
