Cupcake. Photo by Katelyn Avery.

Diets are for other people. This girl needs her cupcakes. That crème filling does not like to be ignored, and the chocolate shell wants to be opened. I enjoy my sweet choice.

Brand names don’t matter to me. Comparing Little Debbie and Hostess is like comparing Pepsi and Coca-Cola. No obvious difference jumps out.

Other brands also find a place in my kitchen. The food pantry is occasionally filled with lesser known brands. Often found during a trip to Walmart. Less money, but my dessert needs are fulfilled. 

 A close-up may cause some to gag. The demand for generic pre-made treats baffles them, but preservatives don’t scare me. The youthful beginnings of adulthood don’t always come with sense. I’m enjoying myself though.  

Cupcake. Photo by Katelyn Avery.

My hand stretches out, and my arm glides forward. I grasp the cupcake and happily raise it. I grew up on these treats, and I don’t plan on outgrowing them soon. I would be healthier if I did, but for now they comfort me.

I’m past the age where I can consume these every week, even twice a month is pushing it. Maybe if I could control myself, and not eat four at a time, I could reward myself every Friday.

Sadness is part of the deal too. Eventually I finish the cupcake, and I can’t grab another. I’ve hit my limit, and no one else in the family is going to give up one of their cupcakes. It would be nice, but it would hurt me too. The calories add up of course. I try to avoid that part of the label though. The facts are against me, but I still want to bask in the chocolate reward known as a cupcake. 

– Katelyn Avery

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