Calorie-Free Cake -- just kidding

Consider yourself warned: I'm climbing on my soapbox for a little rant. 

When I began considering baking a cake per week until 2018, I pitched the idea to my ever-wise Facebook crew. And they were generally supportive - because, cake! - but were also, surprisingly, full of health advice - because, cake? - but it got me to thinking and actually aggravated me. Problem #1 with crowd-sourcing your dreams. 

There were suggestions about ways to share the cakes to keep from eating it all, tips on how to save calories/fats, and suggestions for healthier recipes. And I get it, 10 weeks of cake is a lot of cake, but my first thought when someone suggests a challenge like that is "ooh, how do I get on board" or "here's my recipe for at-home Baker's Joy" or my husband's initial reaction, "how can you afford that much butter and vanilla?" 

So, I'm kinda pissed that these suggestions about health, diet, and calorie counting clogged up my fun query and dampened my excitement. 

First, food is important. We need it to survive but in a privileged society where we aren't solely focused on nourishment, we also have the opportunity to really enjoy it. I have the great fortune to be able to spend money at grocery stores, to spend time cooking for myself and the ones I love, and to go out and enjoy the gift of other people's professional cooking. So why shouldn't I take the next two months to not only enjoy the fruits of my baking and the results of new experimental recipes, but also to reconnect with my love of cooking? 

Which makes me think this: is it because I proposed the challenge?

I recently watched a (ridiculous) Refinery 29 video about an employee who ate nothing but pizza (or the closest approximations thereof) four times a day for five days. 

Homegirl had breakfast pizza, homemade gluten-free pizza, fruit + Nutella pizza, classic $1 NYC slices etc. and she lived happily ever after, save for one stomachache. However, a Facebook comment stood out to me: how would this comment thread be different if she wasn't a cute, thin, white girl? 

What would your gut (no pun, intended) reaction be to seeing slovenly Kevin from accounting eating 10 slices of pizza a day for a week? Or that big girl at the gym who only lasts 5 minutes on the treadmill? "We" - the collective group of people with opinions and wifi - would not stand for it. Why? It's five days out of someone's life! They could be healthy. They could regularly exercise. They could be  are just damn fine without our concern for their well-being. 

I'm not skinny, but aside from some Smaug-worthy heartburn and allergies from hell, I'm pretty healthy. This barely muscular, doughy, and perfectly imperfect body gets through the day without too many complaints. It nourished and brought a wonderfully healthy baby boy into the world and it only gained 12 pounds to do so (7 of which were exclusively baby) and so far, it's nursed him for 15+ months while losing the baby weight + an additional 30 pounds. So I've had to ask myself a la Carrie Bradshaw: would a cake-a-week be a big deal if I looked like, say, Carrie Bradshaw? 

Now, these particular people who offered suggestions on Facebook and those who I've explained my cake calendar to since, aren't jerks dropping passive aggressive hints about my weight, sugar intake, or chins. These are all women whom I genuinely respect and who care about me. But that shows you how ingrained discussions of weight, calories and fat are in our culture. We're willing to tell the people we love, whose ideas we fully support, that they should be thinking about their diet...constantly and that they don't deserve to indulge. It's subtle and well-intended conversation, but it's coming from a place, deep within all of us that is paralyzed at the thought of being unattractive. This self-consciousness is such a part of who we are that we can't be held accountable for our own behavior. It's like a compulsion to share and defend ourselves at the same time; "I care about my health. I'm bettering myself! See? Now, you should too!" 

All that being said, I appreciate another element of the culture of my she-tribe, that we look out for each other. We only want the best for each other and I'm sure they'd be alarmed if I expressed an interest in anything dangerous or truly, immediately unhealthy. But I just hate how this observation speaks to all of our fears and panic. I want to take the time to be more thoughtful in my conversations with others, especially with other women, about their plans/dreams/challenges and not be dismissive. I need to reprogram my subconscious to ask more personal, positive questions and offer real, helpful thoughts instead of jumping to negativity. 

I need to be asking myself: is this something I would say if they were talking about or doing something "traditional" or "healthy" or "generous"? Can't their excitement over baking ten cakes warrant the same excitement I'd give someone trying a kale-of-the-month club? Shouldn't I be as proud of them taking up disc golf as I would be of their interest in Soul Cycle? Why am I not praising their decision to go out on a date without the kids as much as I do their macaroni art projects with the two toddlers?