Have I introduced you to my cheat day yet? It’s usually Sunday, and it’s the happiest day of the week. In fact, I composed a song about it (sung to the tune of Reading, Writing, Arithmetic):
Cheat day, cheat day, all-that-you-can-eat day,
Cupcakes and candies and pizza pies, no need to worry about my thighs,
You keep the feelings of guilt down low, oh my cheat day how I love you so!
When I lived in Ireland, cheat day was often sliced sausages on buttered white bread, or scones heaped with jam and cream. (Or both, who am I kidding.) In New Zealand, sweet potato (kumara) fries with sour cream and sweet chili sauce. In LA, this:
Now, I’ve been known to stop at SusieCakes. I’ve run a few red velvets up the flagpole at Bluebird Cafe. But variety is the spice of cheat day, so I rely on the Cupcake Babies at Vanilla Bake Shop in Santa Monica.
I’ve got it down to a science: Snag a parking spot on Fifth in front of Whole Foods. Stick with delightfully familiar Mom’s Birthday Cake (vanilla with fudge frosting, oh yes), experiment with a flavor of the day. Or two. (Yesterday, Toasted Coconut.) Procure dinner so you can justify dessert:
Eat healthily all week and repeat the following Sunday. What would/does your cheat day look like? Vegan cookies and tofu corn dogs? Steak, seafood, salad, Sizzler? Talk to me. There are no judges here.