This is my cake. Well, without the white stick figures and the red rose. I don't know why we chose this cake. I think it will give my mother a slight heart attack. She will hate it. I don't know why we picked it. We were looking for one of the normal safe options when a friend pointed us to a bakery which had the reputation of being just the best bakery around those parts. I mean, they count Oprah as one of their clients! We met with Jackie who's the quintessential Jewish mother and she joked and laughed and drew us a picture. Then gave Bolaji a free magazine. Then we said okay. From the moment we walked out of the bakery that faithful morning, I was thinking "what have I done????" Alas, it is done. The cake has been paid for.
This is my cake.
I think I love it. I'm afraid that I love it. Secretly. Deep inside of me I'm jumping for glee.
I'm afraid I'll hate that I did this to my wedding pictures.