All You Can Eat

I participated in two all-you-can-eat events in the span of three days. I'm refusing to step on a scale currently, but I think it's safe to say I have an obese state of mind, if nothing else. What's wrong with me?

First was Korean BBQ, where I ate meat, meat, meat, and meat. While there, I unbuttoned my pants, but asked the person next to me to remind me to button them before leaving so I wouldn't repeat the time I lost my pants at Olive Garden. Fortunately, I ended up remembering all by myself!

The next day I saw a commercial that the never-ending pasta bowl special was back at Olive Garden. And rather than saying, "I'm still full from last night," I immediately starting organizing a competition for the following night.

Six of us participated in this fierce battle, which required a lot of strategy. Skip the complimentary salad and breadsticks to save more room for pasta? Choose a lighter sauce? Pick a hollow-shaped pasta so that your bowl would be full of more air?

Jessica, who hadn't eaten all day in preparation for the event, took an early lead. Once she lapped us a bowl early, she had the enviable position of just being able to match us bowl for bowl. I think my mistake was trying to eat whole wheat pasta. Healthier, sure, but way too filling. I wanted to make a move at the end, but she would have just forced herself to eat another one, so the final tally was 2 bowls: Alice and Laura; 3 bowls: Ted, Preston, Kevin; 4 bowls: Jessica, proving she is worthy of her "Hungry, Boastful Jessica" title.

I was worried that the waitress would be annoyed by how much food we were having her bring, but she got into our competition, calling out the slackers for slowing down. I asked the waitress what the pasta bowl record was, and she said that her boyfriend served a guy who ordered and ate thirteen refills. My jaw would have popped open in shock were I not too afraid that pasta would pour out.

"Is it safe to assume that this was a rather large man?" I asked.
"Actually, it's safe to assume that it was a skinny Asian man."
Skinny Asian men always besting us fat Caucasian Americans at eating contests! What do we have if not excelling at shoveling hotdogs and pies down our throats? Sigh.

I'm not exaggerating when I say several of us were on the verge of vomiting. While our peers were out on Friday night putting themselves in a similar state from drinking too much, we dealt with pasta hangovers the next day. On the bright side, however, I again remembered to button my pants before standing up from the table. That makes it twice in a row that I didn't lose my pants in public at a restaurant. Looks like I'm getting smarter! ... in addition to getting fatter.

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