Buffet. A Fat Girls Favorite Word


Last night of vacation and then it’s back to reality. Sigh. What a great trip though. If you have never been to Memphis, I highly recommend it. They love fat girls here. And they love food, something else fat girls love. I am dreading the scale results but will face the music. I feel like it should play doom and gloom music. Something sinister. Probably should have played that music as I walked the breakfast buffet. Maybe it would have helped. Doubt it.

Buffet. A fat girls favorite word. My mom and I discovered a great little cafe our first morning in Memphis and saw they had a breakfast buffet on Sunday. My fate was sealed. The Beignet Cafe. Check them out. http://beignetcafe-memphis.com/  Seriously. We ate there three times. And whoever came up with the idea of fried mac and cheese is my hero. Just saying. But I digress. The buffet. Oh lordy. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the biscuits and gravy. Plus I had stuffed myself the day before and went to Beale street last night (I heart my friends who came to visit me). Add to that the bacon, eggs cooked to order, fresh waffles, fried catfish, dressing and gravy, red beans and rice, and grits. Forget it. You get the point. If I could have gotten away with doing the fat girl dance of joy right then and there, I would have. Pretty sure my inner fat girl was squealing with delight pretty loudly. So loud, in fact, I had to look around and make sure they didn’t mistake my squealing for a pig and put me on the spit. That would be like an episode of Criminal Minds I watched where a guy ate girls. That might be worse that the Silence Of The Lambs guy. Maybe. Although he is pretty creepy. Maybe he hears my inner fat girl squeal and thinks it is the lambs. Eeeek. Back to the buffet dilemma. Wait. Did I say dilemma? Let’s just call it what it was. A bad decision. And a tasty one. (Did I mention the bread pudding and cherry cobbler?) My fat rolls were welcoming new fat rolls as I went back for seconds. “Hey there new side roll! Welcome to the fat girl! What brings you here? Oh! Biscuits and gravy! Well, welcome. I am brought to you by pizza and beer.” Like on Sesame Street. Today’s broadcast is brought to you by the drink Hurricane and a side of pig! (What? I admit to nothing!) I might have been singing a fat girl’s ode to Southern food as I ate. Let’s hope it was in my head at least.

I thought about working out. Really I did. But I must admit to a lot of walking this trip. (Does walking up and down Beale St count too?) Good thing I wore capris or long pants or I would have had Chub Rub. Maybe my thighs rubbing together could have at least made a tune and played an Elvis song or two. Then I could have sung along. The song “I’m All Shook Up” might now be in reference to my fat rolls jiggling or my digestive system after what I consumed this weekend. You take your pick. They might both be right. Just saying.

Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. Might have ate myself into a food coma but I didn’t die. I am fat girl buffet eating returning to reality. The experiment continues…

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