It's More Than I Can Handle

I've been cursed with a superpower ever since I was fifteen.

When my ability appeared, my mother faced me squarely, put her hands on my shoulders and looked deeply into my eyes.

"You have a gift, Julia. Love it or hate it, ignore it or acknowledge it, do what you will with it, but....it's yours," she said with a voice broken with emotion.

"You can choose to use this power for good or for evil, but my darling, always remember that you will be called to judgment at the end. Choose good. Always."

She gave me a quick hug, and while dabbing the tears from her eyes with the corner of her flour-covered apron, left me alone to face the consequences of my abilities.

So there it is, people: my secret is finally told.... I can......I know how.......to bake a killer pie.

::sob::

I didn't ask for these powers. I don't want to be able to turn out golden flakey crusts brimming with creamy meringue-topped fillings, or succulent glazed fruits nestled between two layers of delicate pastry.

My mother understands my dilemma completely, having been banned from the pie-baking competition at her local county fair after winning the grand champion ribbon for five years in a row. It is from her that my gift, my burden, has come.

But why? Why to me?

I've long since realized that this thing is bigger than I am. I am powerless to resist unleashing my talents...

Oh, the humanity of it all: to inflict calorie laden desserts on all who cross my home's threshold. I cringe as I slide each delectable wedge onto my guests' dessert plates, or reluctantly drop a scoop of vanilla ice cream and watch it begin to melt on a slice of steaming apple pie. Oh, the horror of weighing in at my Weight Watcher's meeting in two days....

Somebody wrestle the rolling pin out of my hands and hide the Crisco. Please. Save me. Save us all....

I seem to be on a lemon meringue streak these days.