Fraser, thank you for sneaking me a pumpkin treat when no one was looking. Sorry for causing that look of fear in your eyes.

After celebrating my birthday for two weeks, going to Vegas and eating more meat over the course of two days than this Veggie has eaten in months, I decided to go on a fast. This detox involves a regimen of lemons, cayenne pepper and molasses mixed in liter of water.

You drink this and only this for as long as you can survive it. I aimed for seven days.

Focusing on the positive aspects of removing toxins in my body, shedding any excess pounds, sleeping better and restarting a healthy eating plan at ground zero, kept me motivated for about three days. Then reality set in.

I work at the french bakery and cafe. My job entails making coffee and perfecting each drink to Intelligensia standards. Throughout the shift I must adjust the espresso grind and taste the shots pulled to get the optimal flavor. This is serious coffee.

This is not possible on a detox. A few sips of espresso make my hands shake and my heart beat against my ribcage like a trapped rabbit. Not to mention, the edge I already have from an addiction to caffeine that I am trying to kick.

Standing in a sea of pastel macaroons, hazelnut cream puffs and a variety of fruit muffins and croissants that melt in your mouth, I realized that I had made a grave mistake. Dear lord, it's like inviting a sex fiend into a brothel.


The jumbo cupcake people, this is what I'm dealing with. This is not the first time we have met cupcake, now you are now my foe.

It's not that I actually felt hungry in the sense of an empty stomach. I just wanted to consume every pastry in a five block radius. All I could think about was food while standing among temptation in every flavor.

We also get a free meal with every shift. I had to sit and pretend like I was making important memos with my phone for a half hour.

By day four, I had to resist the strong impulse to punch everyone near me in the face, especially children. My eye starting twitching uncontrollably and I was ready to burst into tears at any given moment. Don't worry this is a good sign that I'm making progress.

This detox would be no problem if I worked at an office where all I had to do was resist visiting food sites on the computer and empty the mini-fridge in my cubicle. Instead, my boss decided to break into the latest pastry creations for the holiday season to share with all of the employees. I tried to ignore the bead of sweat forming on the small of my back as my co-workers each grabbed for a slice of a pumpkin ganache tart.


"Oh my God, this is orgasmic." Commence the yummy noises.

Thoughts of grabbing the nearest pen and gouging out someone's eye out, made me realize that maybe this is not the right time in my life for this. Best excuse myself. I sucked down a cigarette in the back alley like a convict in a prison yard.

Five days seems like a legit time to flush out some of the deep friend animal carcass I enjoyed so damn much. Instead of food deprivation, I am sticking to a healthy eating plan to keep my skin clear and my thoughts less vicious. I even will allow a minimal amount of carbs to keep me sane.

"Oh! Glad to see you eating croissants again," said a co-worker yesterday. She was in the process of moving all the ballpoint pens from away my station.

Glad to be back.

While you're at it could you please solve hunger and give us all world peace?

My sister and I were born two years and three days apart. That means growing up we celebrated with joint parties, so my mother didn't have to deal with two days of screaming children hopped-up on sugar. Lucky for her.

Now living on the same side of this fine country, we get to repeat this tradition. I imagine it's the same treatment that people born around the holidays get. They cram their special day in with the rest of the hoopla and hope people don't try to make one gift stretch to cover two very separate occasions.

We planned to go to dinner with friends on my birthday. I was informed we would celebrate together since sister was going on a private dinner with her man on her actual birthday. Fabulous.

Being as I am new to LA and have no friends to speak of, I decided to buy myself a damn fine cake for my birthday. It's a lot less pathetic than it sounds. When it comes to birthdays, working at a delightful french patisserie has its perks.

Most of the eight mind-numbing hours I spend at work each day, I watch customers on the slick tile hoping for a sudden loss of traction ending in someone landing on their face for my entertainment. It's yet to happen, but one can dream.

Enter the jumbo red velvet cupcake, with delicate cream cheese frosting, covered in red sprinkles and large enough to feed ten. This is one serious cake and the perfect addition to my, excuse me our, dinner party.

Sister loves cupcakes. She loves them enough to ponder symmetrical cupcake tattoos on the nape of her neck. I can see the raining glory that I would receive once I arrived with said cake in tow. Plus, I get to devour delicious pastry for my birthday.

This is where I should mention sister's dream boyfriend. In reality, he is the perfect doormat that she has been waiting for. Boy did sister luck out on that one. Seriously though, he would go to the ends of the earth for her and I appreciate that. Plus, he has a gnarly mustache.

Through the grape vine I hear knight-in-shining-BMW may be preparing a cake for sister's big day. So I investigate. Meaning I text him asking politely if I should invest in a cake for our dinner.

He informs me that yes, he plans to bake for lovely sister. He wants to make something special for her, but don't worry there can never be too much cake.
I swoon a bit for her sake.

He goes on to say how he probably will make her a red velvet cake and maybe some cupcakes since she is such a big fan. Okay, hold the phone.

That's ironic, I tell him, that pretty much the same idea I had. I was going to buy a freaking jumbo red velvet cupcake for my birthday. Don't worry he says, he will make them for Monday and I can bring mine for Thursday.

Just great. After Martha Stewart here makes delicious homemade delights, I get to bring my store bought monstrosity to give everyone deja vu. Wow, I might be impressed, but boyfriend of the year got here first. Way to steal my thunder, bucko.

Where is Ashtin with his obnoxious trucker hat when you need him.

Then because he's such a nice guy, he offers to bake something extra for me since I am a loser who has no one to make such a gesture of baked goods. He even offers to scratch the idea and go with the jumbo. Dammit this guy is good.

Defeated, I admit that he must bake for sister since it's so cute I could vomit. I will come-up with something else. Why doesn't he just knit her a sweater while he's at it.

Turns out sister bought me a cake for the big dinner. I didn't see that coming.

She then brought home the most adorable little lovecakes that boyfriend created. The red velvet cupcakes were actually dyed purple, as it is her favorite color and sprinkled with gold pixie dust, since it's her golden birthday.

I tried to eat one, but I choked on all that they stand for.