Twinkie Eating Contest

So I won an eating contest. This is not exactly something I would put on a Bucket List, if I had one. I'm still not sure whether to celebrate with pride or hang my head in shame and quietly ponder the depths to which a competitive spirit may drive a person.

This was The Second Annual Stoddard Community Group (Living Hope Church) Twinkie Eating Extravaganza. It began innocently enough, in July of 2015, when someone in the group joked "We should make it a typical July 4th party and include an eating contest." But then...

There was trash talk and posturing. There were sermon notes with key words replaced by Twinkie. There is video evidence.

 The competition was fierce and various strategies were employed.

The cram and choke.
The nibble.
The cram and drown.
The laugh and blow chunks on women and children spectators (grounds for disqualification).

But one victor emerged.

It wasn't a mere standard Twinkie. It was a limited edition yellow sponge cake packed with fluorescent green Key Lime Slime filling. Yes, these are real and approved by the FDA.

Gary, a wise friend of the group who would not stoop to those depths, read the ingredients before the competition. I covered my ears.

"LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA..."

Before and after the event, I reasoned with myself:

"ALL competitive eating is obnoxious and plain gross."

"It's okay. It's just for fun. And downing two Twinkies for time is a much more dignified eating contest as compared to seeing how many Twinkies can be packed into one's GI tract."

Yes, those were my actual thoughts. This is never, under any circumstance, a reasonable use of the word "dignified."

And so I went ahead with my second (ever) eating contest, and pounded 440 calories worth of Key Lime Slime Twinkies in 37.40 seconds. This took place in the exact location where I regularly preach and practice the finer details of performance training and dietary moderation.

The Bonny Lane Club has been defiled by Christians, a competitive band of brothers and sisters who understand the tremendous value of lighthearted fun.

We laughed at all the ridiculousness until our faces and stomachs hurt. We talked and ran around in the back yard well past dusk. For (mostly) better and worse, our memories, and likely that of our children, will never be the same.

And Lord willing, in the same time and location next year, The Champ will be granted an opportunity to defend his title.