Thursday, January 6, 2011
I love dessert.
I always have.
One time I got the spanking of a lifetime for sticking my 5-year old finger in my little sister's birthday cake before dinner. Understandable, considering I didn't do it just once try about 10. Things haven't changed. I still prefer cookies and milk over a sandwich for lunch and think "what the heck" when someone sends me home after a dinner-date without at least a piece of chocolate.
So here's a confession:
Today I went to cutesy little French cafe for lunch with a friend.
It gets worse.
Amongst all the delicious sandwiches, soups, and salads, this particular cafe greeted us with a beautiful display of French gems: pastries. Super hardcore ones at that. The kind that's almost too pretty too eat.
Usually after something like lunch I don't need anything sweet, so I really didn't think about purchasing something other than my vegetarian croissant sandwich.
But on the way out I thought, "It would be cruel to come home and tell Adam I went to a French bakery without bringing him back something."
So I bought something.
And on the way home, I got a little curious and had a conversation with myself about this beautiful white box staring from the seat next to me.
"I wonder if it's even good."
"Oh course it's good, Britney, but how good?"
"Maybe we should make sure it's safe."
I tried it. Surely husband would understand that in purchasing this over-priced delicacy that I would certainly want a little nibble.
One bite turned into two. Yeah, ok, I ate the whole thing.
Alright, but let me explain my rationale:
This particular dessert resembled a triple-layered chocolate mousse cake with super-thin crust in-between each fluffy layer. I thought when buying it that it was more of a cheesecake. The problem? Adam doesn't like pudding. He couldn't possibly enjoy this as much as I would. In fact, I was doing him a favor--if I was told someone had a pricey French dessert just for me my hopes and expectations would be pretty high. I wouldn't want to be disappointed with something I really didn't care for--like cherry pie...sick. So really, I selflessly took the bullet for my man and saved him some major disgruntlement.
I mean, it could have ruined his whole day.
Yeah, I'm a bad wife.
Not to mention a total pig.
But it was 100% worth it.
Don't judge me.