Come on, cupcake

We do a lot of things in public. At least I know I do. Public urination is a favorite pastime for many. Tonight I ate in a university cafeteria – pretty public (read: vomitorium). The French and Italians love public displays of affection. Public bathrooms are venues for all sorts of public activities.

But eating? Why is it so hard to pick up a tiny cupcake and eat it in front of your coworkers? At a small farewell gathering at work today (at a travel magazine – see, it all comes together), an editor passed tiny cupcakes around. The nearly 20-strong party ate barely half of the cupcakes. I shamelessly ate two. Daring, I know.

My coworker and I tried pushing them onto everyone, but people declined.

Fatty fear, I call it. Although it was entirely unwarranted by the crowd of young, thin professionals. One cupcake-less individual whispered something about her swelling derriere. Though my heart was all that swelled.

What have we come to that we can’t enjoy cupcakes?

In French culture, food is revered, honored, celebrated. I worked at La Maison Fran├žaise of NYU, and at events with cheese, wine, bread, and desserts, rare was the day that anything of quality remained. Coworkers seemingly encouraged each other to indulge. Italians, in my experience, don’t know how function unless there is food present. And what tourist is ashamed of buying a hot dog off the streets of New York?

American culture is so silly. Just eat the cupcake. You think you’ll be wearing larger pant size after, but I guarantee you’ll only be wearing a smile!