Cake for Breakfast

Eating cake for breakfast, she thought, made as much sense as eating cake for lunch or for dinner. It made no sense what so ever. And yet, more people ordered a lemon glazed pound cake or a cranberry muffin along with their morning coffee than did with their afternoon espresso.

Ann was always a sucker for life’s simple pleasures. No pleasure was more of a guilty one than the double fudge espresso brownie that they sold at Starbucks. And this is where it all became ironic. As she placed her order for the brownie along with a tall vanilla late with skim milk she was scorned by the eyes of two overweight women. They were appearantly shocked by the idea of any woman who dared to order anything chocolaty for breakfast.

The main problem with today’s society, Ann thought, was the lack of education and pluralistic ignorance. People were so quick to make assumptions regardless of concrete facts. Take these two women for example, she thought. One of them was holding on to a frozen syrupy coffee drink headed by piles of faty whipped cream. The other was munching on a blueberry muffin that was coated with so much sugar that her teeth could have fallen out of her mouth on the spot.

If they could only all sit down around a table to compare a case by case calorie count.

Ann thought about it but decided to let it all go. It was always easier for people to judge others than it was for them to judge themselves. And besides, she had more important things on her mind.

But what was the deal with these women, Ann wondered. Why were they always so unkind towards one another? Ever since she was a middle school girl back in West Virginia, they always found a way to make her feel self- conscious. It was not always what they said but typically the way in which they said it. Madison Harris was the worst of all with that striking blond hair and ruthless teenage tounge of hers. So many years have pasted and Ann could still feel the fesh scars that were associated with Madison’s memory.

What was it about these women? She wondered. Why could they not all unit behind a common cause, behind the ideal of global sisterhood? Instead they chose to tear each other at the flesh.

To Ann, women were even worst than were men. Those guys only wanted to have their way with you only to later lose your number. Ann has been there more than once. But still, the worst that a man could do was to break your heart. But these women, they tore other women down slowly and maliciously just like the waters tear down the edges of an ocean side cliff.

Ann walked out of the coffee shop and headed towards her SUV. When she bought this thing three years ago gas was only $2.14 per gallon, now it was all the way up to $3.21.
Where once enthralled by its power and size, Ann was sick and tired of her giant green machine. Well at least the lease would be up in a few months.

She got in the car and started to drive. She was not sure of where she was heading and how long it would take to get there. The music was load and the wind in her hair. She picked out the forbidden brownie from its thin paper envelope and placed it in her mouth.

The chocolate’s vast flavor erupted through the walls of her mouth with all of its chemical glory. The sun was out and her song was playing. It was Thursday morning in Louisiana and for the first time in weeks, she felt comparatively contented.


Book Club Books