Eat it. Take a bite of the cupcake. It is luscious golden cake with creamy vanilla frosting carefully topped with colorful candy sprinkles. Such a delicacy used to make you giddy with pleasure. A scrumptiously sweet confection that would brighten any day. So why will you not just eat the thing?







Alas, if only it were that easy. See the cupcake, eat the cupcake. If only a mere nibble could be taken without the care of calorie content of fat percentage. I mean, cupcakes are supposed to be eaten, not analyzed. Why do I care so much? Envy flows through me for the people who could consume such treats without a care of their nutritional value. The problem is that it is not about the cupcake itself.






The problem is that the root of my anxieties is what used to be my favorite food- a cupcake. The only way to conquer my fears is to consume them, literally. A cupcake is merely a symbol; the tangible proof of a major struggle within. It is a struggle to maintain complete control over everything in my life. Every second of my day has someplace for me to be and something for me to do. It is as if I have to be productive in the most efficient way possible, all the time. Classes, grades, clubs, dance, sports... all piling up like butter cream frosting atop of rich chocolate cupcake. Everything is constantly about management and organization; a purpose for everything I do. It is a kind of stress that dominates and directs.




Controlling it feels like succumbing to the pressures or else crumble under the anxiety. Ah, crumbs… cupcake crumbs. I just cannot get them off my mind! Cupcakes would bring me more discomfort than delight. Those poor cupcakes, they never did anything wrong. Yet, I treat them like the source of all my troubles.






Cupcakes seem superfluous. They are unessential in my carefully directed lifestyle. Or are they? I seem to shun cupcakes for their lack of “purpose”, but maybe I am missing the point. Cupcakes are not going to make me smarter, faster, better or stronger. They have no set objective or goal. Alas, cupcakes will make me happier. That is it. And that is enough.



Cupcakes are happy. The truth is that I need them in my life. I need them because I know the joy they bring me. I can try to deny it, but I know nobody is being fooled, especially me. Everyone knows how much you secretly cherish the sweet flavorful morsels of cake or the fluffy white icing. Just give in. Give in to the pleasure I only get when I take a giant bite of cake to find that half the icing has ended up on my nose. Give into the delight I feel at the site of those adorable cupcakes lined up in perfectly symmetrical rows in bakery windows beckoning to me.











Cupcakes are more than flour, sugar, milk and eggs. There are countless memories lovingly folded into their creamy batter. They represent rainy afternoons at home spent baking in a cozy kitchen and birthday parties highlighted with blowing out candles on a tray of brightly iced miniature confections. It is not about the food. It is more than the ingredients and benefits my body receives from one nutrient or another. Food brings people together for love and laughter.

I am doing more than depriving myself of my favorite dessert. I am depriving myself of all such a food denotes. I am depriving myself of joy and laughter. Give in, if only for a moment.






Taking a bite is a step. It is a minuscule, unimportant action for some, but a major accomplishment for me. It is an embarrassingly proud accomplishment for someone who once shunned her favorite food. If something makes me happy, I need to hold onto it. If I can fill myself with happiness with something as pure and simple as a cupcake, why would I deprive myself? I can accept every aspect of who I am, and it all begins with this bite.