Let me tell you a little about my trip to New Orleans...

Fat fat FAT FAT FAT FAT.. That's how I feel right now... disgustingly full and fat... My pants are way too tight. Today I woke up full and instead of NOT eating, what did I do, I ATE.. two bowls of cereal for breakfast. I NEVER eat cereal in L.A. I never eat it, because I never buy it, because if I do, I eat it. All. The whole box in a day. Well usually it's a late night when I'm feeling anxious. The cereal and any other rogue offenders I have at arm's reach are all gone.

So luckily I had an appointment outside of the house this morning, so I was forced to leave. But before going, I just had to snag a little piece of a praline my mom had made and a few pieces of cookies my mom's boss gave her. Then just for variety, I ate two of the chocolate covered coconut balls my neighbor gives us every year. Seriously, thank God for the appointment, or I would have eaten myself into a diabetic coma.

After my appointment, I was no longer uncomfortably full, and in New Orleans that means it's time for lunch. So we met my aunt and uncle at this pizzeria we always go to. I tried my best to prevent myself from overeating by drinking like five huge glasses of iced tea, but it didn't work. It just went straight through, and the trips to the bathroom seemed to tell my brain that it was ok to eat more. So I did. I had some baked brie, which to my credit is one of the best tasting things on the planet (unlike most of the other garbage I ate earlier), and I had salad and pizza, and I waddled on out of there with that short of breath feeling really fat computer geeks get when they get up to refill their troughs of peanut M&Ms.

When I got home, my blood sugar was dangerously close to normal, since we didn't have dessert. I started feeling kind of jittery, and my brain lost complete control of my hands. They took me straight to those evil siren tins of cookies, fudge, and coconut balls, opened them and started taking little bitty pieces and shoving them into my mouth. I closed the tins repeatedly, but it was all in vain, because my devil hands continued to reopen them.

I had to leave the house. So I got in the car and drove away, far away. I drove around the Lower Ninth Ward and Chalmette. Then I drove to the Riverwalk to get a little bit of exercise by walking around the stores. Unfortunately it was closed.. at 6pm. How lame is that? Or maybe it was good that it was closed. Last time I went to the Riverwalk, I was with my mom and sister, and we ended up buying 4 pounds of fudge at the Fudgery. You see, we planned to get 2 half-pound chunks, but if you buy 2 you get 1 free and if you buy 4 you get 4 free. So of course, we went with the 8 half-pound deal. That's how we roll in New Orleans, or why we roll.

On the drive back from the Riverwalk, I was starting to feel some small sense of self-worth when wouldn't you know it my sister calls wanting to know when I'll be back for dinner. I gave up any hope of leaving town in anything but extra wide sweatpants, and I told her I was on my way.

I got home and luckily we had to wait for my mom to get back before going to dinner, so I could achieve non disgustingly full-ness again before eating. I started strategizing. I'll just get a salad, I thought. But I really don't know why I even try while I'm here, because of course, at dinner, I ate bread, some other bready appetizer, and a big salad covered with dressing ("on the side" is not big here) and cheese. (Also note our brilliant decision to eat Italian for lunch and dinner.) Then just to revel in my own gluttony, I ordered a tiramisu and ate the WHOLE thing. I sort of justified it to myself in that I was pre-empting my need to raid the tins at home. I disgust myself.

We got back, and I sat down on the couch and semi-reclined, so my enormously distended stomach could have adequate room. I was like some kind of pale, purple-sweatshirted beached whale. And actually I didn't "sit" on the couch, I had to kind of fall down on it, because my pants were too tight for my knees to fully bend without some part of them tearing. Oh and before sitting down, I had a tiny piece of my 4-year-old nephew's cotton candy. So very sad. We sat in front of the TV and channel-surfed, like good fat Americans, but only for about half an hour. Because just when I thought we were finished, we decided to go out and eat more.

I should have taken the hint when while we were watching TV, my nephew showed us his drawing of four butts and claimed that mine was the largest of the butts he'd drawn. But there was no use in fighting it, there were too many factors pushing us towards Morning Call. 1. My brother-in-law had been waiting since Christmas (the only day of the year they're closed) for beignets, 2. it was my last night in New Orleans, 3. we wanted to go out with his sisters, and 4. in New Orleans, meeting with people ALWAYS means meeting for food. So off we drove to Morning Call.

Before we sat down to eat I went to the bathroom, and -- feel free to stop reading at any time -- I am embarrased to say that I threw up a tiny bit. Not a great deal, but I did feel a great deal of shame. But not as much shame as when I went back out and ate more. That's right. I ate a single wretchedly delicious powdered sugar covered beignet.

And finally that was it. A glorious end to a gloriouisly disgusting day of stuffing myself. I don't know what to feel more.. weak for giving in and eating too much or stupid for even trying to avoid it.