Long Year, Shortcake

Sometimes, the worst feeling in the world isn't whether you'll be able to squeeze into your slinkiest party dress, but that you wo...



Sometimes, the worst feeling in the world isn't whether you'll be able to squeeze into your slinkiest party dress, but that you won't be able to get out of it. After all the New Years Eve nibbles at my sister's party, I was almost certain that I'd get stuck--and that everyone would know me as that girl in the jungle print dress--until 2010.

You see, I needed a little something to soak up all the alcohol. When I peeked into my sister's fridge, I had a hunch that the blank cardboard box on the top rack contained a celebratory cake. I felt like Britney Spears in the Curious perfume commercial; I put a finger to my lips and asked myself, "Do you dare?" I imagined all the world's nutritionists running toward me in slow motion, shouting, "Nooooo! Waaaait! Donnnnnn't!" in warped voices. 

The imp on my shoulder said, "Hell yes." I obeyed the latter.

Maia, my friend's cousin, fled to the scene. Until this point, she'd been mixing orange soda with chardonnay (she swears it's dreamy). All I had to do was look at her twinkling eyes to know that she was equally intrigued. The suspense of the mystery dessert was making her crazy.

The second I lifted the lid, I nearly heard the Alleluia choir's hymn of joy. I, the girl with the wild hair and jungle dress, was ready to snatch my prey. I furtively cut a slice of the triple-layered, butter-yellow sponge cake with its wheel of fresh strawberries and turrets of whipped cream. And then Maia and I attacked it, leaving streaks of frosting on the black glass plate. 

 

Unlike most cake I've had, this one didn't sink in my stomach like the heft of a cathedral hymn. It was more like a light piano tune that made me want to dance around the room in a frilly yellow dress. Each velvety bite with its cool, white whipped topping reminded me of the cake you'd serve on the cusp of summertime or at a sixteenth birthday party--flirty, fun, and on the verge of seduction.

It was my last lick of 2008, celebrating my successes and absolving all the absent-minded messes I've made. This was one sweet acquaintance that will never be "forgot." 

P.S. By some divine intervention, I managed to break free from the dress, throw on my sweats, swap stilettos with sneakers and run (I mean RUN) to the gym the next morning.

Welcome, 2009! 

;-p  Holly

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...BUT AT LEAST MY HAIR STILL LOOKS GREAT!
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