[ed. For a scientific explanation of how competitive eaters do it , click here. Update: Google, in it's estimable wisdom has decided to delete this post entirely because it apparently "violates Blogger Community Guidelines." (if you are reading this it was reinstated). This is the third post this week that Blogger has flagged for deletion or a warning page. Do they provide any specific reasons for these actions? No. In this case, I can only imagine it must be because the article or title uses the word "Weenie", or something? The last post so restricted by Google/Blogger was an excerpt from the London Review of Books mentioning dating service questions about sexual preferences. The London Review of Books! What is going on with Google/Blogger? No one knows, and the non-specific nature and apparent randomness of their actions reflects badly on whatever they're trying to achieve. God help us if this is what they spend their time on.]
Twelve hot dogs are stacked high on a cookie sheet in front of me. This is my Everest. "I think you should try the Solomon method," says Crazy Legs Conti, world-record holder for most pancakes eaten in 12 minutes (3.5 pounds) and my competitive-eating mentor. He's referring to a technique in which you break a wiener in half, shove both ends in your mouth, and chase it down with a wet bun. It's named after King Solomon's controversial maternity test. You know, the baby-sawing one. Crazy Legs pours me three glasses of Crystal Light lemonade (for dunking) and one glass of water (for drinking). To my right, he places a garbage can (for yakking). "You ready for the dirty dozen?" he asks.
I am. It's long been my dream to compete in the world's biggest, best known, most nitrate-filled gorging competition: The Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest, held every Fourth of July in Coney Island. So deep is this aspiration that for two years, I shimmied my way onto the main stage as a Bunnette, a girl who counts hot dogs and riles up the crowd while wearing a very short skirt. A wiener cheerleader, if you will. If you witnessed the epic battle in 2009 between Joey "The Jaws" Chestnut and Japanese eating machine Takeru Kobayashi, I was the blonde behind Chestnut, spastically flipping through his number placard and pumping my fist in the air, as he chowed his way to victory, 68 dogs to Kobayashi's 64.5.
This year, I'm hanging up my pom-poms. Because for the first time ever, Nathan's will have a separate women's division. Sure, females have been able to compete before, assuming you're built like Sonya "The Black Widow" Thomas, who can down 41 hot dogs in 10 minutes and smoke guys three times her size (she's 98 freakin' pounds!). But opening up a women's-only category makes the competition attainable for slightly more modest — yet still heroically voracious — eaters like myself. (...)
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My obsession with the glorious sport of competitive eating goes back to my childhood, when I saw my first contest at Pepper Fest, an annual festival in Hudson, Wis. The discipline was spaghetti, and I watched in awe as 10 participants — all men, mostly overweight — sat on a stage, tearing apart meatballs and shoveling noodles into their mouths, their lips framed by circles of tomato sauce, like marinara goatees. I felt, at once, disgust and a sense of belonging — I wanted to spray them down and then shake their hands. I was excited that such a competition existed. It catered to my one skill I would have never thought could amount to anything of recognition: I was a big eater.
Despite my scrawny preteen figure, I had the appetite of an obese child, one who fed her feelings as often as her stomach. What may have been a cause of concern to some parents was a cause of celebration for mine. "That's my girl!" my mom would beam, as I'd plow through my third helping of Hamburger Helper. Most of the time, our family dinners started with a prayer and ended with my declaration of gluttonous victory. "I win!" I'd yell, lifting up my clean plate for the rest of the table to admire. Without any other discernible skills — save my ability to rescue the princess on Super Mario Bros. 1 through 3, I viewed my big appetite as a natural talent. A gift sent from the gorging gods. Something to be proud of. (...)
This Monday, I'm going to achieve my childhood dream and compete in the biggest and best eating competition in the world. And then I'm never, ever going to do it again.
Check back in on July 4, and we'll update the story with Laura Leu's contest results.
Laura Leu is a writer and soon-to-be retired competitive eater. You can follow her on Twitter @LauraLeu, or visit her website, lauraleu.com. More: Laura Leu
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