If you still don’t know shit about me that’s cool. I have narcissistic tendencies. I’m a creature of self-love, thus, I rarely mind showing my (inner) self off (because I love my fabulous soul however, my body nooootttt so much!) 7.5 months ago I was possessed by the idea of decorating an Easter cake with fondant for a family gathering.
For years I had a designated “cake lady” for my kids’ birthday parties who would charge me anywhere from 200$ to 400$ for 2-tiered fondant cakes which, I would design and draw out FOR her, because the creativity was completely lacking…and which, no one ever really raved about as far as taste. And every time I had the opportunity to design one of my kids’ cakes my hubby would INSIST that I try getting into the cake business but ehh, I honestly felt safer in my comfort zone at the time. In my mind, that shit was straight up impossible.
But 7.5 months ago, the creative curiosity washed over me and I dove into the cake isle at Michaels head first and bought the only fondant I knew existed at the time, baked a box cake, and spent a night literally pressing play and rewind on multiple YouTube tutorials as I brought my very first fondant decorated cake to life. Here is the little gem that has led me to discover my calling in life:
Not too shabby for my first cake huh? Yea. Well let me just tell you…I made every classic fucking cake decorating mistake IN THE BOOK in this cake but still managed to conceal them all! There’s a massive fuck up beneath every single flower and hidden behind every damn little leaf but listen, I’ve learned that at the end of the day, being a cake artist isn’t about being impeccable, it’s about being able to make it happen! It’s about presentation and tweaking and having impulsive inspiration in order to get an impressive result.
NO ONE was expecting this from me, and I got so much love for it. I got a high from my art that I became addicted to. I couldn’t stop after this cake. I invested everything I had into my supplies and I just fucking started. I researched until my neurons burned out and I practiced until my body learned to stay up for 48 hours at a time.
And here I am, actually still doing it 7.5 months later. For once. For the first time in my entire 30 years of quitting every single thing I’ve started, I finally found what sets my soul on fire. No more Wilton fondant and no more box cakes. Shit got deliciously serious pretty quick around here!
And I don’t give myself enough credit. I’ve managed to book out almost every weekend for the last 4 or 5 months, breaking night after night to expand my hustle while maintaining my full time job and being present for my family and friends. I’ve made countless sacrifices, including pricing dirt cheap for beautiful cakes for the sake of growing, and giving up my weekends for the extra practice.
At this rate, I expect to be busy enough to dedicate myself full time to my hustle in the future. My conversations with the universe are endless. I’m not afraid of my dreams, on the contrary, I’m convinced they’ll be realized before I know it.