When Stress Wins: Cake for Breakfast
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It had been one of those weeks. The kind of week that stretched beyond mere days, creeping into every available crevice of Fiona’s life. She had survived it, sure, but barely. The inbox overload, relentless Zoom calls, and a never-ending barrage of "urgent" tasks had worn her down. By Friday, her nerves were frayed, and her patience was long gone.
And so, on Saturday morning, Fiona found herself standing in the kitchen, staring at the chocolate fudge cake. It was 8 a.m., and she hadn’t even made coffee yet. But the cake was calling to her—beckoning with its rich, gooey promise of indulgence. She hesitated, only briefly.
"After the week I’ve had, I’m doing it!" she negotiated with herself.
Fiona felt the briefest moment of guilt as she put the whole cake on a plate. Was it guilt? Or defiance? Because, really, what was more rebellious than chocolate fudge cake for breakfast? It was her silent protest against the weight of the week. Against the inbox, the never-ending demands, and the meetings that somehow filled her calendar, leaving no space for, well, life.
With the first forkful, Fiona smiled. The cake was heavenly. It was rich, fudgy, and, best of all, comforting. It soothed her frazzled mind, and for a brief moment, she was transported away from the work week to a chocolatey oasis. The week hadn’t beaten her. No, she had cake.
But as the plate emptied, so did her sense of triumph. The sugar hit was quick and satisfying, but something else lingered. A familiar feeling. The waistband of her trousers, snug and stretchy as they were, reminded her that cake for breakfast wasn’t the sort of treat her body was looking for.
She sighed, glancing at the list of emails waiting for a response, at her To Do List sitting on her desk. Saturday morning was supposed to be a break, but here she was, already thinking about Monday. Already stressing about the things she hadn't finished and the problems she’d have to tackle soon enough. And, if she was being honest, this cake-for-breakfast scenario was far from a one-time thing. Stress eating had become her go-to response for work pressure, and it was starting to show in her growing cake belly.
It wasn’t just the cake. It was the endless snacking that followed, biscuits, crisps, whatever she could grab between meetings. The kitchen had become a refuge, a place where she could escape the grind of remote work, if only for a few minutes. But those few minutes added up, and the waistband of her lycra trousers was squishing the evidence up and over the top of the trousers creating an impressive muffin top.
Fiona stood up from the kitchen table and stretched. Her back ached from sitting too long at her desk all week, and the lack of movement had left her feeling sluggish.
She glanced around the room, her eyes landing on the resistance bands hanging over a chair, the same bands she had bought months ago in a burst of motivation to stay active while working from home. Naturally, they had been used about as often as she’d managed a proper lunch break. But today, something shifted. Maybe it was the cake guilt, or maybe it was the growing realisation that this sugar spiral wasn’t helping her in the long run.
“Right.” she said to herself, resolving to do something she picked up the bands. “I’ll start small. Just five minutes.”
The chocolate cake may have set the tone for breakfast, but her body needed something else to carry her through the day. She took a deep breath, looping the resistance band around her hands and pulling until her muscles engaged. How many reps could she do? It was hard going, 20 bicep curl repetitions was the first point her muscles started to feel the burn. 4mins 30secs left on the timer, time for another 20. It took the whole 5minutes to achieve 100 bicep curls, but she did it. Her arms, usually resigned to clicking through emails, stretched and burned as she worked through bicep curls.
There was no rush, no expectation to shift 4 stone overnight, sure it would be nice but there was some good habits to build for that. This was the first stage, a moment break to remind herself that movement could be a counterbalance for the stress of the week. She just needed to give her body a chance to wake up, to break out of the sitting, sugar cycle she’d slipped into. Fiona felt an odd sense of lightness, not from the exercise itself, but from the idea that she could shift the unfit, overweight dial, even if only slightly. She wasn’t committing to an overhaul of her entire routine, but maybe tomorrow she wouldn’t start with cake. Or maybe she would, but follow it up with another five minutes of movement.
Back at her desk, she glanced at the plate in the kitchen, the crumbs from the cake breakfast still sitting there. Tomorrow was another day. But today? Today, she’d make sure to take a few steps in the right direction, to get out of the house and go for a walk. Enjoy the autumnal Saturday sunshine and give her legs a chance to stretch.
Stress eating cake was only a temporary fix, but Fiona knew now that change didn’t need to be drastic. It could be as small as five minutes of movement in between the chaos. And who knew? Maybe it was time to dust off that yoga mat.
