I've been doing some serious hot dog eating for an upcoming post, and today at lunchtime I headed to our local Papaya King for some purely academic, tube steak-eating research.
I ordered one with mustard and sauerkraut, and one slaw dog with pickles. Eating kosher-style hot dogs with mustard and sauerkraut always sends me hurtling back in time to my childhood, when I would effortlessly polish off a pastrami sandwich and two hot dogs at a single lunch at our local deli, Wilshire's. Talk about establishing damaging, self-destructive eating habits early.
I first ate half of the hot dog with mustard and sauerkraut and then moved on to the slaw dog. I was enjoying both immensely when my brain sent a signal to my stomach: ENOUGH! How could this be? How could anyone who considers himself a serious eater not be able to finish two Papaya King hot dogs, which are certainly not oversized.
Is this my official wuss coming-out party?
Once I got over the shock I realized that it was okay. In fact upon further reflection I decided it's positively grand. I guess my stomach has strunk to the size of a normal person's. That fact doesn't negate the pleasure I derive from eating something seriously delicious. In fact I think it enhances my enjoyment.
I'm happy to let Kobayashi and company do the competitive-eating, stomach-stretching thing. If that makes me a wussy serious eater, I'm down with that.
I've done a lot of serious hot dog eating this week, but I don't think I've taken more than three bites of a single hot dog. So, I'm thinking I should be all right. The interim weigh-ins have been very encouraging. Here we go:
209. Wow, I lost five pounds this week. One of those weird, equilibrium-busting weeks. Down to 2 and single digits for the first time in way more than 25 years. Man, that feels good. Maybe I should call it the shrunken stomach, half a hot dog diet.
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