How to Become A Fruit Tart Girl

It turns out that one single mention of "feeling like fruit tarts instead of chocolate cakes" gets you branded as a chocolate snubber for the rest of your days at the office. Last week, AKA "Birthday Week", my coworkers asked what kind of cakes I liked. In my head danced a delectable vision of a neatly crimped, slightly savory pie crust with a cool, honey-flavored filling, topped with decadent--one might even say bounteous, but please don't as it might incite my gag reflexes--mountains of summer fruit. It was 95 degrees outside with a humidity factor of, oh, 300%. A heavy chocolate cake just didn't seem like it would do the trick. So I said that exact phrase mentioned above.

My coworkers looked shocked at my decision. "Oh! We never figured you for a fruit tart girl..." said with such crest-fallen expressions I had to laugh. Plus the euphemism ("fruit tart girl"?) was too good to pass up. So lunchtime rolls around and they present me with this absolutely gorgeous Georgetown Cupcake (best cupcake in this town)lemon cupcake filled with zest, smothered in cream cheese frosting, crowned with a tiny sugared lemon peel. Holy Hannah, it was like being translated on the spot.

When my manager got back from vacation we ordered the real Furin's cakes (also delish). I probably didn't help to dispell my chocolate hating rumor by ordering the strawberry shortcake and shunning the chocolate cake with: "That looks divine--I just can't eat any of it..."

So it came as a surprise when this morning one of my coworkers called me to the front with promises of sweet love in the form of dark chocolate (for the record, I would eat, weep, and breathe dark chocolate if it were possible). I thought--wow the tide has really turned on this chocolate embargo! Sure enough, she had a little mound of chocolates weeded out from the box. When I looked at them I saw they were wrapped in foil with neat orange stickers. "Here, try the orange ones." "Oh," I said, "these look delish!" (they did). "I mean, we didn't like them--they're filled with fruit--but I know you'll love them!" It was so sweet that I didn't have the heart to tell them there is no way that I would touch a piece of dark chocolate tainted with that nasty fake orange pulp with a ten foot pole. I smiled and said: "Thanks! Mmm, I love oranges!"

I've basically become Ryan. A Georgetown Cupcake to whoever can make up the best lyrics for my personal shame, i.e., branding: