In this phase of my reconfiguration, I’ve become a professional cake jumper. That is, I’m paid for jumping out of giant cardboard cakes covered with icing. As strange as it may seem, there are many still willing to pay quite exorbitant prices just to see a scantily clad female jump out of a fake cake.

You may think but politely not ask: Aren’t you a bit dated to be jumping out of cakes? Well of course I am especially if it’s at some kind of wild and crazy bachelor party. But experience has taught me to choose my venues with care. Most of my gigs are at homes for senior citizens where, after I jump out of a fake cake, real cake is served. So I’m just an appetizer for the actual thing.

Aside from the cake, my seniors enjoy the festive atmosphere, the sing-alongs, and the pinning of tails on papier-mâché donkeys. Nevertheless, the cake jumping is such a favourite that many of the ladies at the home have decided to learn how to jump out of cakes, too. Initially, while the ladies were practicing their jumping, the men were trying to design a reusable cardboard cake. But after a few days of frustrated efforts, the men decided that it would be easier if they all chipped in for an inflatable rubber cake instead. Only the men hadn’t considered the problem of inflating it. So, once the cake arrived, it was so big that the men had to take turns blowing it up.

As for the ladies, they daily do squat exercises to reinforce their knees. Believe me, climbing in and out of cakes is not as easy as it may seem. But, as exercising can be boring, to spice it up a bit, I have the men come in to act as spotters telling them it’s up to them to keep the ladies from falling on the ground. Of course this makes the ladies giggle and the men puff up like roosters. Vintage hormones are the best.

So after my seniors have giggled and puffed for a while, I turn down the lights and turn on the music. Because there’s nothing better for your health than dancing cheek to check.

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