We all emit a "please love me" distress signal. Mine is baking things. I used to clean people's houses instead, but honestly, baking things is much more fun, plus it allows me to be out there enjoying the fruits of my labor with everyone else instead of donning rubber gloves and cussing.

The problem is, I think I am somewhere, on some level, convinced that I'm not worthy of love, and sabotage myself accordingly. How else to explain cakes that taste wonderful but have to be cemented back together with frosting? The brownies that are just a hair overbaked? The transcendentally lovely cookies that need to be chipped apart with an ice pick due to excessive spreading? You get the idea. I try, but only with half my ass, when really the whole one needs to be applied.