I liked everything about being pregnant. I liked all the attention, from friends and strangers alike. I liked how everyone would be so affable and attentive, like I had something special going on. I liked feeling special. I particularly liked how my father-in-law’s affections for me seemed to increase as my belly grew; I liked how he’d always tell me that I had a bun in the oven, how he’d put his hands on me when he’d tell me—like he had a right to. I like it when a man asserts his will.

Use the extra large mixing bowl. Put it all in—everything. Mix the flour and the salt and the yeast with the water; get it smooth as you can; then knead it. Knead it well; slap it on the board to calm it down if necessary. Then put it back in the bowl and cover it—so it will rise.

Then, it came. Having it wasn’t nearly as fun as carrying it inside me. There was lots of work; but even worse, people stopped paying so much attention to me. Instead they were focused on it, on how cute and precious it was. What about me? Wasn’t I still cute and precious? Wasn’t I still special? Why had my father-in-law stopped giving me his attentions? Why didn’t he put his hands on me anymore? Why did I feel this hunger . . .

Once doubled in size, knock it down and knead it again—to give it better structure. Knead it well; then to bowl, cover it, let it rise.

People should be more considerate. They should appreciate that their actions have consequences, that their cruelties and slights—no matter how seemingly insignificant—cause people to do things . . . desperate things . . . hurtful things.

Remember to use the extra-large bread pan; put the dough in the pan. The dough might seem to have a will of its own, but bend it to yours. You’re stronger . . . much stronger. Once shaped properly, pop it in the oven at 350° F. The protuberances may wiggle a bit, but they’ll soon quiet.

I’m calling my father-in-law. I’m sure he’ll be excited to know that once more I have the bun in the oven. Maybe he’ll want to come over . . . maybe he’ll want to put his hands on me again. I like it when a man asserts his will.