A destroyed cake and a perfect ending to 2013

Most New Year’s Eves are a time for jubilant celebration. But for me 2013 ended with one last and super important lesson – the same one I’ve never quite mastered.

It started out innocent enough, well actually dirty enough. Every year, I make a silly cake for a friend’s birthday, which is celebrated at the traditional New Year’s Eve gathering. There was the 30^th birthday boob cake with fruit roll-up pasties. And the “31, sexy, and I know it” man torso sporting a Speedo-like undergarment. Last year’s creation featured a trio of dolls slathered in frosting jumping out of the cake.

And this year I was frantic for a new idea that aligned with my limited cake decorating skills, which lack for precision and fine detail. There was also no turning back as the previously used boob pan was nowhere to be found. I thought about making a bunt cake with a doll doing a split across the center and holding a birthday sign but it seemed too easy. I settled on the female version of the 31^st birthday cake. I could make a fun bikini and had the perfect birthday message.

I decided I’d also switch it up with red velvet cake mix. Let me tell you there’s nothing so sticky whether in batter form or fully baked. Once cooled, I ever so gently had to slide my hands under the bottom while praying the upper torso wouldn’t sever. There were a few corners lost as transfer casualties to the cake carrier for final decoration but she remained largely in tact.

The struggle continued when my animal print sugar decoration sheets proved nearly impossible to cut. The sheets ripped into jagged edges and smooth curves took more skill than I possessed. One failed bikini top turned into the bottom triangle for the bikini bottoms. I fought my way through both pieces and relied on the black sparkly icing to draw attention elsewhere.

The perfectionist in me was also irked by the clumps of tasty red velvet cake that looked like a pimple outbreak on the quite lumpy orange skin. But there was a satisfaction in creating a totally different cake from the previous years.

I didn’t realize how much that cake meant to me until I watched in horror as one partygoer picked it up as soon as the candles were removed and tilted it nearly vertical to smash it into the birthday guy’s face. In my ordinary fashion, I didn’t say or do anything to the perpetrator. While she laughed and smeared frosting on a few others, I took another sip of my champagne, silently stewing while I waited long enough to leave the room without adding to the drama.

I made it through the rest of the festivities and as I drove home in the wee hours of 2014 it hit me. I was pissed, not at the attention-seeking culprit but at myself. Why didn’t I yell?  Why didn’t I throw cake? Why didn’t I do or say anything instead of worrying about preserving the evening? After all, it wasn’t my decision to leave the party completely cake-less and it was ridiculously rude.

And that’s what I needed to learn again. Being a nice person, being peaceful and being positive do not mean that others get a carte blanche to act like a jerk. While I want to kick myself as much as I want to go back and sling cake direct from the garbage, I am equally grateful. Difficult people offer some of the best lessons. So cheers to 2014 and the new mantras that come with it, including the revival of my personal favorite – “I am not a doormat.” So bring on the cake smushing this year. I promise it’ll inspire an immediate demonstration of that backbone I vow to use more.