Takes the Cake.

Lately, I've found myself reminiscing about my wedding day. You know, going over the details, trying to capture every last memory so as not to forget.

My mind will wander from my beautiful dress to my bangin' heels to my perfect hair and makeup to my wonderland reception. And inevitably will come to a screeching halt at my wedding cake.

You know, I had the best intentions when it came to that bad boy.

He was going to be the best darn cake that ever lived. Zebra insides and pearl outsides. I fully intended to hire a professional.

But after unsuccessful attempts to secure a cake maker, I came to one conclusion: I was too cheap and too un-trusting to go the traditional route. There was only one thing to do: make it myself.

And that is precisely when I should have re-evaluated my priorities.

Fast-forward two weeks, and you'll find me covered in batter at 2 AM, baking the middle section for the second time. Why? Oh, because at 1 AM my sleep deprived mind forgot to grease and flour the cake pans after throwing out the first batch at 12 AM when I realized that the top was setting much faster than the bottom causing an impending crater.

It was shortly thereafter that I realized that my twenty minute online tutorial about wedding cake baking was probably an insufficient education on a very tricky subject. But what was there to do?.. The wedding was in two days and my bank account had cobwebs.

So I did what any logical woman does in the heat of the moment.

Cursed a little, threw the P.O.S.es in the freezer and went to bed.

You see, here's what I had envisioned.

Inspiration:

Which somehow translated to this.
Execution:

Yep. Nailed it...

Whose idea was it to make my own wedding cake anyway!??
I mean, come on. Even immediately after making the finishing touches and before setting it in the hot sun, it looked like a piece of crap.

See that bulging section?.. That's no tumor.
That's baking pride slowly sliding off my ego and into oblivion.

My one consolation is that the top tier (currently frozen in my parents' freezer in preparation for one-year anniversary traditions) was the prettiest.
Comparatively, that is.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to the rest of it after I sped away from the reception. But that gets me thinking about the whole cake fiasco again and I have to tell myself to ponder on happier things. Like babies. And bacon.

In my defense, the inside did look pretty cool.
But that was where the semi-amazingness stopped.

And to top it all off, I was shamelessly badgered when I refused to stuff it up my husband's nose. He asked me not to do it, people! Believe me, I was torn!

But at the end of the day, I just have to remember that I can't 'have my cake and eat it too'. Given the choice, I'd rather have had a crappy cake than no cake at all. And when it really comes down to it, I'd rather have a good story to tell than a $300 piece of dessert.

Just goes to show that you get what you pay for.
And I am a very cheap bride.