The World's Fattest Man Lives in My Heart

The time has come to reveal my 2007 New Years Resolution. (I've found that if I make my resolution within the last 6 weeks of the year, I'm much more likely to keep it until the new New Year.) This is a big one.

This Thanksgiving, I will not eat myself into a catatonic state.

A little history.

My two sisters and I have always shared a very special bond. It's hard to describe. It's like we always know what the other two are thinking. For example, at family get-togethers when someone outside our small circle stops eating even though they still have food on their plate, the three of us look at each other and immediately engage in single-elimination Paper-Rock-Scissors. Whenever we eat together we employ an intricate combination of technique and finely-tuned situational awareness to ensure that the plates and mouths stay full. If one of us runs out of something, without looking up we all sense it and communicate via non-verbal cues to quickly and seamlessly correct the situation. It's a ballet of sorts.

I'm not quite sure where we got this - our parents are normal. The only thing I can compare it to is the phenomenon known as "twinspeak," where twins speak a language to each other that no one else can understand. But with us, it's "eatspeak."

Obviously, Thanksgiving is our time. It's our World Series. We coach each other like someone spotting a powerlifter.
"Push it! Push it! Push it!"
"I can't - I just hit the wall."
"Don't think about it, just keep truckin'. Work through the pain."

We were a bit nervous when we became old enough to start marrying, not knowing how new people might disrupt our dynamic. Each potential mate was regarded with a combination of suspicion and latent resentment. Will this person be a compliment or a detriment to our way of life?

The woman who is now my wife was the first to enter the fold. To our surprise there were no waves. She could hold her own. The only thing now barring her from complete acceptance is her freak-of-nature metabolism.

Then came my brother-in-law, The West Virginian, my older sister's husband. Dude's got game. Fit in from day one. I think if we all were being honest, we would admit that we look up to him. I mean, we're good...but he's good. He brought with him a number of innovations that made us more efficient and increased our endurance. From pre-meal stretches to wind-pants with elastic waistbands, he revolutionized the way we think about eating.

The day my younger sister brought home a suitor to meet the family, is a day we remember well. These first-time encounters always take place on our turf, Mom and Dad's house. When we arrived, he and my sister were already there, which totally threw me off. I caught sight of this fellow just as The West Virginian nudged me and whispered, "Who's the bean pole?"

"Surely that's not the newbie."

Proper introductions confirmed that my little sister was actually going to try to pass this guy off as a contender.

He started entertaining the kids by walking on his hands. When he was upside down, his shirt fell, exposing his midriff. You've heard of six-pack abs? Try twelve. He had a whole case.

I said, "Alright, send this one back - there's no way he's gonna be able to throw down."

You don't get abs like that by eating. You get abs like that by not. The odds of this guy fitting in were infinitesimal. The West Virginian can inhale a twelve pound turkey without taking a drink of water. The newbie was way out of his league.

Then came mealtime. The newbie could eat. He was not intimidated.

"Where's he putting it?"

"More importantly, how is he keeping it there?"

He had a twenty-nine inch waist back then. He has a twenty-nine inch waist right now. He is our very own Kobayashi.

So, we successfully integrated the spouses. We all click. It's amazing. A couple of years ago the IFOCE (International Federation of Competitive Eating) approached us with a 6-figure contract to star in an instructional video for young talent. We were of one mind in our reply, "we don't do this for money - we do it for the love of the game."

Fast-forward to last summer. My wife and I were watching a show on The Learning Channel called, "The World's Fattest Man." It was about the world's fattest man. It's a guy in Mexico who at one point weighed something like 1,300 pounds. He looked like Jabba the Hut, but more carefree and with a smaller mouth. I remember being repulsed watching this man eat. And he could eat. I said to my wife, "That is just sinful. He doesn't need that much food."

I know. It hit me right then. If it is sinful for someone to eat more than they need, is it not also sinful for me to eat more than I need? He may have a bigger problem than me, but we have the same problem.

I realized that the World's Fattest Man lives in my heart.

Right about that time I heard about a book proposing the crazy idea of only eating when you are hungry, then stopping when you are full. Insanity.

But I was convicted about my gluttony, so I repented and started this ludicrous plan. This was huge. I was amazed at how little food I really needed. I was finding myself satisfied after 2/3 of a Happy Meal.

It has been several months now and I've lost about 20 pounds, mostly in my head. But I've known for sometime that Thanksgiving was coming - the real test.

With some reflection I now see how hypocritical it was for me to Give Thanks for all God's blessings, say amen, and then desecrate my body for the next hour by methodically shoving gibblets down my gullet until I am pressing right up against the threshold of my gag reflex. Is God honored by my spending the rest of Thanksgiving day with a sweat-soaked, furrowed brow; swollen beet-red lips; my pants undone; a barely-audible, perpetual moan; unable to think, move, or respond to verbal or visual stimuli? My children refusing to look at me, asking their mom, "Is Daddy gonna die?" Is The Lord blessed by my loss of my sense of smell for 2-4 weeks? I'm afraid not.

So. This Thanksgiving, I'm going to give thanks. Then I am going to eat the equivalent of a Happy Meal. Then I'm going to spend the rest of the day thanking the Lord that I can feel my legs.

And here's a hearty shout out to the World's Fattest Man.