I am happy to report that said cake consumption yesterday went off without a hitch.
No digestive problems, no urges to eat more (it didn't hurt that the meal before dessert was very good, too), not too much anxiety around it once I actually sat down and started eating. And saw that the cake was just....a piece of cake. Nothing more. Not a monster. Not a taboo. Just a piece of cake, lying on my plate.
And best of all? The cake tasted really, really good. Amazingly good. Moist and chocolate-y and just oh-so-cakelike.
Now, this doesn't mean that I'm going to spend the next few days in the kitchen baking up cakes and taste-testing them. Nor does it mean that I am back into glutenhood for good. What it does mean, however, is that I've passed a small barrier. I had a piece of gluten-containing, rich, sweet food, and it didn't trigger any digestive or emotional malcontent. Tomorrow it might be different. Who knows? But last night, the cake was fine. Whatever happens from here on out, I can look back to this piece of cake, and remind myself that things went really, really well. Is this repeatable? I certainly hope so.
Because cake without fear is a fine thing, indeed.