If David Attenborough was filming a documentary about women around a piece of confectionary, treating us as he does his wildlife subjects with that faint air of puzzlement and as a mystery to be solved, I do believe one thing above all others would leave him dumbfounded - the language of cake.
In that low, respectful tone I can just hear his ponderings, “…they've returned to the gathering with a kill covered in a white powdery substance and clearly desired by every female in the room. It makes one think of the effect catnip has on felines, this constant murmuring and ever moving closer to the food…”
While all of this would be interesting to the man, I can't imagine it would be vastly different to anything he has witnessed in the wilds of Africa or any other habitat where beast rules. But where beast rules, its mainly male beast (feminism having never really taken off amongst buffalo) and as we all know, communication amongst those with the y chromosome, be it man or beast, is a practical affair. If the man buffalo wanted cake, he would just say so.
Women, on the other hand - the hand not holding the cake, are a whole other species and nowhere is this more evident than around an icing-covered piece of perfection.
“Oh, I really shouldn't, but… ok”
“Just the tiniest piece for me thanks”
“Really, I want nothing more than a taste”
The lingua franca of cake. Understood universally by those who know that a moment on the lips means a lifetimes on the hips. Understood also by those who know that there is more than one way to skin a cat - for these sentences hide untold innuendo and meaning.
Nothing is ever what it seems.
“Oh, I really shouldn't, but… ok” means “thank you for twisting my rubber arm, I would like one of everything on the table and two slices of the raspberry meringue”. “Just the tiniest piece for me thanks” in real life translates as “just the tiniest piece for you and more for me” and the “really, I want nothing more than a taste”, while sounding like a salute to self-restraint is really the exact opposite.
This dates back to our history. Professors of the past will tell you that centuries ago wealth was displayed by how much food you had. Food was an all-time occupation. You had to hunt and gather everything yourself, and maybe barter a few of your eggs for one of your neighbour's turnips. (In light of this feast, is it any wonder that cake holds such allure?) Therefore the more you ate the higher your status, and sentences commonly bandied about during this time included, “seconds for you?” and “yes please”.
But then the industrial revolution took place and Henry Ford invented the car in any colour as long as it was black, and suddenly getting to the bakery was so much easier. And so the whole social structure underwent change. Now it was no longer indicative of your social standing as to how much food you had, but rather how you resisted the food that was so readily available and for the first time in the history of the planet, plentiful.
From eating to reflect status to not eating to reflect status, women were the first to be affected and took to the change as naturally as eggs to flour. Now women were constantly confessing to always being full and not possibly being able to squeeze in one more morsel.
So where are we now, in the post-post age of whatever it is? Ah, cunning creatures that we are, able to fool even David Attenborough, our language simply incorporates the changes we've been through. Feast or famine is how the saying goes and we've learnt to allude to both. Scientists will tell you that a woman's brain for communication is a highway, while a man's is a country lane and I for one thank cake for this evolutionary advantage we enjoy.
So we'll say we want only a small piece but the reality is we'll take much more.
Women often receive bad press for being complex, difficult human beings with even Freud going to his deathbed asking “what do women want?” All this angst trying to figure us out is so unnecessary because what we want is so clear. We want cake. Just not too big a slice thanks.
