I can feel us getting rounder. Ooh. But it was sooo good

We are horrible, horrible people.

We abuse our stomachs with so much food this Saturday that I'm pretty sure if I didn't eat until December, I'd be just fine.

The dish? Oh my God. A box of macaroni. A whole brick of Velveeta cheese. Sixteen ounces of sour cream. Three tablespoons of butter. Oh my God. Salt. Milk. Oh my God.

Why? Didn't we have a box of lower-fat shells and cheese? Actually, yes we did. But his family called, and ... I guess it's Wasinger comfort food. Oh my God. It sticks to your mouth.

The worst part is, we'd hung up a sheet on the fridge from a magazine just that morning. It was one of those newlywed magazines you get when you sign up for the bridal registry at Bed Bath & Beyond (The Nest? I don't remember). The premise was, we'd use this worksheet for losing or maintaining your weight. Dave and I are doing neither currently, so we figured now would be a good time to, you know, get off the couch.

Only I guess we thought "get off the couch" meant "go to the kitchen and make something with 47,000 calories." Oh my God. The guilt. And I was raised Catholic. I know guilt.

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Coincidentally, you may be wondering what kind of person takes photos of food? Well, my brother does. Last summer, he took out his cell phone and said "Oohh, these were good wings. Look. And this barbecue, that was good too." Seriously. I only have one photo, so I'm clearly not that far gone.