Easy To Bake, Hard To Swallow

Here's a bit of an essay i wrote recently (cause i'm too lazy, busy, and un-inspired to write anything new). the assignement was to write about a personal experience in which i was either affected by gender or war. i chose to write about gender:

Christmas embodies a time of joy, excitement, and as much as Christians surrendered to the secularization of the holiday refuse to admit, a time for presents under the decorated Douglas fir. The Christmas season, for many, also represents a time of innocence and wonder, surrounded by an aura of magic and enchantment. For one young boy, particularly naïve and spellbound by the advent of Christmas each year, the season meant that Santa Claus would come to town, provided he exemplifies good behavior throughout the year (or at least a month before the December 24th deadline). Every Christmas morning at 7 a.m., after a night of feigning sleep, I would race down the creaking, brown, carpeted stairs, half blinded by fatigue, to see the presents sprawling across the living room floor. Boxes containing clothing and toys fanned out from under the illuminated eight-foot pine in the far right corner of the room. Santa had selflessly bestowed his benevolence on me under the cloak of night. Yet, once again, one gift from my “wish-list” remained absent.

I had seen the commercial dozens of times: the grinning children, two girls and one boy, stuffing miniature freshly baked goods into their faces. The Easy Bake Oven appeared on my Christmas wish list to Santa every year from ages 7 until 10; yet, it never arrived under my Christmas tree. The cakes and cookies and cupcakes prepared by these children, my peers for goodness sake, made me want to reach through the television screen and snatch one. These smiling, selfish brats would remove the cakes from the oven after only minutes of preparation. Their expressions revealed a menacing delight in their accomplishment, almost as if to boast of their treasure and my misfortune as the envious spectator. They proceeded to slather the goods with creamy chocolate frosting and a light dusting of rainbow sprinkles. These three kids devoured those cakes as if their last meal ever to be consumed.

My Christmases, nonetheless, always brimmed with a bounty of joy and family merriment. Santa would always go above and beyond the reasonable amount of gifts for any child. Nonetheless, I always wondered why Santa would never bring me this one simple appliance able to bake a personal pastry in mere minutes. I mean, it had only appeared on my list for four consecutive years. I first thought that only one aspect of my behavior had faltered and prevented Santa from ever gracing me with this present. When my mother finally explained to me that she acted as the “Santa” who bought me so many gifts for all the years of my childhood, I responded rudely, “Thank you. Wait, why didn’t you ever get me an Easy Bake Oven?” Ungratefully, I felt disappointed and betrayed that my own mother overlooked the one gift I truly wanted for so many years. I would not have minded as much if, in fact, strange portly fellow in a red suit had neglected my wish. My mother explained that an Easy Bake Oven “is a girl’s toy.”

“A girl’s toy?” Only girls can bake delicious cakes in just a matter of minutes? A boy certainly appeared in the commercial, grinning from ear to ear as he chomped into a moist cupcake. My eyes nearly pooled with tears. My gender had prevented me from enjoying the thrill of making my own desserts with whipped frosting and a festive array of sprinkles. I thought any child should be able to enjoy cakes and other treats, regardless of gender. What importance does gender serve in baking, as long as the desserts equally delight the palate?

I have since forgiven my mother considering her tireless efforts to provide me with the best possible childhood and Christmases every year. Also, having purchased my khakis and jeans in the “husky” section of the children’s department of clothing stores, a section tucked into the corner as if to stash the heavier youngsters out of the view of valued customers, I certainly did not need any more fattening pastries in my diet. Just the thought that my gender, however, made me miss a chance to operate my own personal bakery helped me see the roles children assume from an early age at the urging of society. Since my discovery of the Santa fraud, I have vowed to bake a cake and cookies every Christmas Eve only now using a conventional oven.

Uninspiredly yours, kiddies.