Welcome to the Good, the Fat and the Hungry. I'm Karla and I have been -- or am -- all those things. Here, I will share with you my lifelong struggle with my weight and I hope you'll follow along on with my determined attempt to lose nearly 40 pounds. I promise to tell you every win and setback along the way every Tuesday and Friday.

As soon as I open my mouth, my roots are a dead giveaway. I am a proud Southern girl. I hail from the land of grits and gravy. If it's not fried and fried, well, then take it back. I grew up in a house where pork was not a four letter word. It was breakfast, lunch or dinner. There was one portion size that fit all -- heaping. We were not rich, but we were family. Sunday dinners were a HUGE deal in our house. If you've ever seen the movie Soul Food, you've seen us. You've also seen a table that had no concern for fat content, cholesterol, calories or any of the other things that matter so very much to me now.

I now reside in New York. It's Thanksgiving, and I am headed South with my new size 12 body. I am terrified at the prospect of what could happen to it while I am home. In so many ways, aside from my singing voice, my weight was my most identifiable trait back home. Growing up, having endured nicknames such as Pork Chop, Fat Momma Cass; accompanied by casual greetings such as "What up big girl?" home is the fattest place on earth for me.

In these times of economic hardship, I have given a move Southward some thought. News flash, New York city is an expensive place to live. My life in the South was far simpler than this. I'd venture to say it was nearly carefree. Down South, you work, you eat. In NY, you work, you might eat. In spite of the South appearing to win this Civil War, I must admit that I am very, very afraid to go back. Running through the streets of Charlotte just doesn't have the same appeal as running through the eclectic streets of my new home, Brooklyn.

Who I have become in New York is not the same person I was in North Carolina. I have learned new eating habits and the value of exercise. These new-found weapons of war reside with me daily in my New York life. Will they go South with me? The old me, she only cared about weight sporadically or in times of sickness. Counting calories and fat only mattered as long as the diet lasted. Now, she is the new me, and I care every day. When I cross the Mason-Dixon line, will she overtake the new me? Will I go home and indulge in every meal as if it were the last before execution? Will I get there and just not care anymore? As much as I tell myself that she is gone, is she really?

I would love to say no but instead I'll say I don't know, but I will use every trick in the book to keep her at bay. My wonderful trainer, Jake, is giving me a routine to follow for the days that I am away. I will follow it and try my best to stick to my guns. I've got fingers, toes and all are crossed to stay true. Cross yours with me and I'll tell you all about it on Friday. Happy Thanksgiving!