The Great Cake Confession


When we moved away the first time, back in 2000, I was very depressed. It’s kind of funny, because in my younger years I always thought I wanted to move away. I imagined an exciting adventure outside the walls of my hometown in Buffalo, NY. Any place would be better (or, so I thought)! I wanted to experience new things.

I met Garret, we got married. While engaged, he got a great offer with a company in Connecticut and we planned to move right after our honeymoon. We had a beautiful wedding, went on an incredible honeymoon to Napa Valley, and then we moved – all within the matter of a couple weeks. When I look back on this time, it’s no wonder I was just a little stressed and melting down daily. My head was spinning!

I’ll never forget our first New Year’s Eve in CT. We had a tradition which included filet mignon, lobster tail, champagne, and a really nice, romantic evening. As we sat down to enjoy our lovely meal, I broke down in tears. I was homesick. I missed my family. I missed our friends.

At the time, I didn’t have a job. No friends, no family, no job = depressed. This was way before our kids entered the world, so I was bored out of my mind. I would sit home all day long and watch TV – reruns of Matlock to be specific. It was so sad.

I formed a new habit during this dark time. I discovered cake. Not just any cake, but the cute little individual birthday cakes they sell in the bakery section of any local supermarket. Every single day (or, so it seemed) I ate cake. I would go to the store specifically to get the little cake. I would come home, eat my cake, and watch Matlock. There were a lot of tears. I gained a lot of weight. I didn’t know how to process the transition. I didn’t know how to handle the grief I was experiencing as my life, and my identity, was changing. So, I ate cake. Lots of cake.

The cake became a problem. Garret started to notice the containers in the garbage. It got so bad that I would actually cut them up, and hide the evidence deep in the garbage so he wouldn’t see.

The months went by, and I started to get more comfortable in my new surroundings. I tried a few different jobs, and ultimately landed a great gig in wireless telecommunications. Things slowly started to get better, and I stopped buying cake.

I can laugh (and sometimes cry) about this now, because it was a long time ago. It was a different version of me.

We recently moved again, just 4 short months ago. This time is so different. I have learned how to process my grief, I don’t need cake to help with that. I can choose ways to make my day more enjoyable, so I don’t mindlessly snack, or sit in front of the TV. I have my own business to run, and a family to care for. We’re making new friends, and my family is just a phone call or email away. I’m not hiding anymore.

I still love cake. I’m a big fan of buttercream icing! I just don’t eat cake like that anymore. I enjoy it when it is someone’s birthday (like mine, of course!!).

Every once in a while, I think about those cakes, and that time in CT. Whenever I’m at the grocery store, and I walk by the bakery department, I see them. It makes me realize just how far I have come.

Love,

Amy

P.S. Have you heard that the BARE group telecourse starts on Wednesday, April 19th? Imagine connecting with amazing, like-minded women, in a small and intimate setting, where you will learn how to end emotional eating, stop dieting, add pleasure to your life, and love your body again. You can get more details here. And, don't forget to grab your spot here.

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