I have heard tales of prodigious teenaged eating feats but last night my daughter left me agog. There are mitigating circumstances here. She’s an athlete and plays on both her high school soccor team and JV basketball team. Yet still. . …
She comes downstairs to meet me after work to go to a restaurant of her choosing. On the way to the restaurant we pass an Uncle Louie’s where she stops and orders a large Fire Engine Cherry italian ice. I nag her about how stopping to have a snack on the way to the restaurant will ruin her apetite. “Don’t worry,” she assures me.
We have to wait awhile for our table. She orders a large orange juice and then a root beer. Again I nag, again she reassures me that nothing could ruin her apetite. Once at the table she orders a fried calamari and my son orders seafood samosas for an appetizer. The samosas are huge and my son gives one to me and one to his sister. Happily she eats both of these things and orders Voo Doo fried chicken as her main course.
Now this restaurant is the type that doesn’t use plates, they use huge platters to bring you your gigantic servings. There’s a half a chicken all chopped up, battered and fried on her platter, a bucket of mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. She eats it all, eat’s her brother’s french fries then proceeds to eat the collard greens that came with my entre. So we’re done right?
Of course not! “Hey Mommy, they make the best root beer floats here,” she informs me. And yes, she eats that too.
We leave the restaurant and start walking home. Half way home she turns to me and says, “I can’t wait to get home. I don’t want any real food. Just an apple and an orange.” I am now officially amazed and agog. And more than a little jealous. You see, she’s 5’2" and weighs 115lbs.
Ah, fond memories. I ate that way through all of my teens, and through most of my twenties, too. Right about when I turned 30, the pounds started adding on, and I finally had to stop eating everything that came within reach. I still miss that.
Most amazing eating I ever saw was when one of my cousins was dating an olympic athlete, a rower I think. We had a huuuge roast, thirty pounds of mashed potatoes (I peeled 'em, so I knew precisely), about the same amount of other veggies, who knows how many rolls, etc. When we’d all finished, we’d barely made a dent, but the boyfriend then when into eating overdrive and finished all the rest. He put gobs of butter on everything, too. About an hour later he had half a pan of brownies, most of the cherry pie and nearly half the apple pie. Later we all went out to a movie and on the way back he bought a lasagna for a snack. Dayamn! He said he had to be careful he didn’t lose weight, even eating like that.
Early this year in an enrollment committee meeting I was reviewing a list of Michigan’s new football recruits. They listed size and weight and I was flabbergasted. One older and somewhat stocky administrator asked me to read the weights and stuff and then commented that he weighed more than any of those guys.
And I said "I’m awed thinking about trying to keep a fridge and pantry stocked with a teenaged athlete like that in the house!!
Tell her to enjoy it while it lasts. One day you wake up and discover that your body has stopped burning whatever fuel you put in and has started storing the damn stuff in inconvenient shapes and sizes
Oh I ate collard greens. They were good. But they serve a cubic hectare of the stuff.
You don’t know how envious I am of her and her epic battle to reach and maintain a weight of 125lbs. She doesn’t like getting pushed around on the soccor field and at her current height and weight she’s on the small side.
You should see the muscle on the kid’s thighs, though.