Aloe Bud

Dessert Is The One

I clap excitedly like a 6-year-old and grab my spoon, prepared for the satisfying cracking noise of the caramelized sugar layer breaking over the custardy deliciousness.

You may be thinking, “Is this girl eating crème brûlée for the first time or what?” But I’m not. I’m really not. This is how excited I get about any pudding.

It’s hard to be openly in love with dessert in a world where you’re not supposed to love anything that makes you fat unless you’re really, really skinny. I used to be extremely ashamed of my love for all things sweet, but years of fighting an eating disorder and learning how to love my tummy and all the places in my body that aren’t toned have taught me dessert makes me happy.

It doesn’t just make me happy. It actually plays a major part in my mental well-being.

I have realized I am happiest in those few seconds the spoon/fork is moving from the plate/bowl and into my mouth; the anticipation, the absolute thrill of knowing I will taste something delicious, makes my heart warm.

One of the greatest decisions of my life was admitting that I love cakes and puddings like no other food. I mean, everyone has their thing: some people enjoy watching or playing sports, others live for shopping, cooking, or reading. I like dessert, and I don’t care what form it comes in.

When I think about it now, it has much to do with how I was raised by the best baker I know: my mum. She helped me through heartbreak and failure with her delicious creations. It is incredible to me that for years I could stop myself from trying gorgeous looking treats and pastries in bakery windows just because I was with other people and I didn’t want to be “the girl who loves cake.” I hate that it was my guilty pleasure.

Unless someone’s guilty pleasure is dangerous or illegal, I don’t understand why anything should be called a “guilty” pleasure. The concept that liking some things over others is wrong, and it’s just another way to make us fit in the mold and lose our unique unicorn-ness. And there are so many plain horses out there.

I remember places by the sweet things I tried there, and I stop in front of big bakery windows just admiring all the pretty sweets. My dreams are made of custard, chocolate, toffee and meringues, and I will not be ashamed of it.

I eat healthily, I am active and I check my sugar-levels regularly. Cake is great, and I refuse to feel bad about what makes me feel good. I don’t even have dessert every day, either. Because special things aren’t meant to be had every day. But please, don’t expect me to pretend not to enjoy my dessert just because “dessert is bad.” I won’t.

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