CakeHeads

Hello, my name is Chris, and I'm a Cakehead. 

It feels good to get that off my chest.  My addiction started some years back.  In the beginning, I'd reserve a slice (Devil's food) at the end of every week.  It was my way of starting the weekend.  Back then, I thought, it was no different than smoking a blunt, but somewhere along the way it got worse.  

Once a week became once a day.  And it wasn't just chocolate or vanilla.  I'd take bathroom breaks at work to get my fix.  Soon I was hitting all the hard stuff: marble, fruit, ice cream, lemon, moon, pineapple upside down, and pound.  Whatever cake you could name I was eating it.  I couldn't function without taking a bite.  Everyday, normal activities, had to be accompanied with a bite.  I couldn't do the dishes without some red velvet.  My taxes wouldn't get done without a gingerbread upper, and I couldn't sleep without an ounce of angel's food.  

Finally, my family intervened.  I remember seeing my mom's tears and thinking, "My god, what have I done?"  I hit rock bottom.  

Here I am though: In front of all of you, admitting that I, Chris Correa, am indeed a Cakehead. 

Thank you.