My girlfriend and I had just finished a fabulous low-calorie lunch the other day when the server approached our table with the question every woman nurtures a love/hate relationship with on a daily basis, “Would anyone care to see the dessert tray today?”
I turned to my girlfriend—she turned to me. We stared at each other. No one wanted to be the first to stand up and scream, “IF THERE IS ONE MORSEL OF CHOCOLATE ON THAT DESSERT TRAY, OF COURSE WE WANT TO SEE IT!” We both restrained ourselves and politely nodded as I said, “Yes.”
The server scurried off to find the tray filled with plastic, hard calorie-laden desserts that eerily reminded me of the food my daughter used to play with in her pretend kitchen. I glanced at my girlfriend and firmly said, “I am not getting any dessert. I just want to look because I’ve really got to watch it these days.”
She nodded her head in agreement. “I’m with you,” she said, “Seriously. If I keep up eating the way I have been lately, my muffin top is going to look like a two-layer cake.”
“Okay,” I replied, “So we are in agreement. No dessert?”
“No dessert,” she said, “And will you do me a teensy-weensy favor? Don’t ask to chew on the plastic cake this time, okay?”
The server returned with the dessert tray and began her spiel—pointing at each dessert while spinning the tray deftly on her other hand. “Over here, we have crème brulee, here we have the chocolate mousse cake, this one is a warm brownie with ice cream on top, here we have bananas foster, and finally, we have our famous cheesecake topped with a caramel sauce and toasted nuts.” She smiled and then handed me a napkin. “You might want to wipe the drool off your chin.”
As I rubbed the napkin over my face, my friend touched my arm and murmured, “Doesn’t that chocolate mousse cake look fabulous?”
I glared at her and then nodded at the server, “We’re trying to be good today.”
My friend joked, “These are fat-free desserts, aren’t they?” and then followed her remark with a bout of nervous laughter that made me wonder if she was already going into sugar shock just by viewing the dessert tray.
I stared at my girlfriend—and she stared at me back. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally blurted, “We will split a piece of the chocolate mousse cake. Now off with you before we change our minds.”
“Very good,” the server said as she began to walk away with the tray.
I yelled after her, “AND BRING TWO SHOTS OF INSULIN WITH YOU WHEN YOU COME BACK!”
My girlfriend shook her head. “We shouldn’t have ordered that dessert.”
“I know,” I replied. “Should we cancel the order?”
“Good Lord no!” she exclaimed. “That would be so embarrassing.”
I nodded, “Definitely.” I tapped my fingers on the table. Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat. My friend grabbed my hand to stop me just as we saw the server returning with our cake and two soup spoons.
“Now that’s what I like to see,” I remarked as she set the cake down between us, “Big spoons!”
As the server walked the dessert tray to another pair of helpless women held captive by their chocolate addictions, my girlfriend and I held our usual dessert visitation. “Isn’t she beautiful the way they’ve fixed her up today?” I sighed as I turned the plate around so I could view the cake from all angles.
“She’s gorgeous,” my girlfriend whispered, “I love the way they drizzled chocolate around her.”
“Shall we?” I said as I held my soup spoon poised over the plate.
“Let’s do it,” she said with all the ferocity of an athlete ready to begin a race.
Together that afternoon, two women and our soup spoons entered the gates of sugar heaven and never regretted it for a moment, even when we felt our muffin tops crawling out of the top of our Spanx like prisoners escaping from jail.