Too Much Cake

Now, you may be thinking “there’s no such thing as too much cake.” In fact, there both is and isn’t such a thing. There isn’t a thing as too much cake if your purpose is to be happy. However, there is definitely a thing as too much cake if your purpose is to not feel like a pig.

Apparently, in one of the old labs that Mahmoud used to work in, people would bring in cake as a celebration whenever they got a paper published (the first author, that is) and Mahmoud wanted to carry on that tradition here. He and Brenda got a paper published recently in JACS (Journal of the American Chemical Society), which is a very good journal, and he wanted to celebrate. Mahmoud likes to go all out; he went and bought TWO cakes on Monday for our lab’s group meeting. He got this very excellent chocolate cake (a Lindt Swiss chocolate one) and a fluffy cheesecake topped with glazed fruit.


I didn’t manage to take a picture of the cakes before they were attacked, so you will have to satisfy yourselves with the above picture of leftover bits of cake.

I was bad. I ended up eating THREE pieces of cake. I couldn’t help myself, though, and shouldn’t be held responsible. At first, I was good and got one piece of cake like everybody else (a slice of the chocolate cake). It was rich and moist and chocolatey with hidden chunks of soft chocolate inside the icing. So good! I would buy this cake. In fact, I might actually buy it next time it goes on sale.

Unfortunately for me by the end of the meeting, there was still plenty of cake left. A few people got up to get a second helping, so of course I did the same. This time I tried the cheesecake. It was soft and fluffy and good, with a bit of a glazed strawberry. I felt super guilty.

If there are any feminists out there, they might yell out something about being against body shaming or doing what makes you happy. Doctors might lecture on fat and sugar content (I don’t think Derrick or JChow would, though). I shudder to think how many calories all that cake would have counted for in Monica’s Fit Pal app. Probably enough to last her a week.

In the end, there was still quite a bit of the chocolate cake left (it was rather bigger than the cheesecake). Too tempted, I took another slice of that one as well. I couldn’t resist. And then I felt like a pig. And then I also got a sugar crash (for some reason, I don’t get sugar highs, only crashes). But at least I was happy.

P.S. I was a little good and saved some cake to share with Chris, so I wasn’t completely a pig, only mostly a pig.



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