For two nights in a row now, I have refused dessert. I entered my late thirties today and celebrated with a quick four mile run after the faculty meeting. My parents offered me cake, but after a dinner of creamy-dressed salad and gourmet burgers, I refused. When we arrived home, my husband cut me a piece of the cake which I eventually threw in the trash before getting ready for bed. Last night, I celebrated my birthday with my husband’s family. After a hearty Italian dinner, I took a small bite of my husband’s chocolate chip cookie pie, but did not have my own birthday dessert. For me dessert is having the time to exercise. I guess many working mothers probably look at working out the same way that I look at sweets.  I think about taking a bite, I might even take a little nibble, but then I’m not that interested. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, and I know that I need healthy food in order to build the strong muscles that I use to run races. I thought that becoming a mother would make me gain sympathy for people who refuse exercise. Perhaps I thought I would gain weight during pregnancy and have to buy larger clothes, and then I could relate to the feeling of not liking my body, and not wanting people to see me at the gym?  Only the baby gained weight, and after I gave birth I was still a size two or zero. I encourage others to exercise and I am a role model for my students, but I cannot relate to someone who outright refuses to change their activity level, just like most people probably cannot relate to someone who won’t even indulge in her own birthday cake.  I feel more starved for fresh air and sunshine than I have ever felt for any sweet item.