My Pile of Rice

                 My heart is beating too fast to count while sweat pours down my face. Am I really this nervous, or is it the ridiculous heat outside? Am I ready for this? Is this how an Olympian feels seconds before their moment of glory? Is today the day that I shine? My entire life is flashing before my eyes. Am I prepared for this moment? I’m literally scared that I can’t even finish the challenge ahead of me. I honestly feel like I’m about to feint. Maybe I did feint? Am I dreaming? I snap back into focus as a chorus of teenagers around me say, “AMEN”, and then I look down at my pile of rice.

It’s lunch time at my center, and “Amen” could easily be replaced with “GO!” The boys usually eat some kind of small sandwich in the morning before school. However, that’s at 6am, and it’s now 1:30pm. They’re definitely starving even though they act super casual. Each afternoon I size up the competition before they sit down. There’s Thin-As-A-Stick Jonathan across from me, Big Bennie at the next table over, and Little Donovan in the corner. Sometimes they act like I’m not even there, like I’m not even part of the competition or something. Don’t they know that my freshman year of college I won the Lucky Charms eating contest on St. Patrick’s Day. Don’t they know who I am?! They act as though they don’t. They’ve only known me for 3 weeks, but still, that’s no excuse.

I’ve done my fair share of rice eating, hell, I’ve eaten rice in about 15 different countries on 3 different continents. I ate rice three times a day for more than two years. I should totally be in at least the top ten rice eaters at my center. I’m not though. It saddens me to say that even with all the passion for rice eating that I have, I come in dead last every single day. You know what the saddest part of this whole competition is? I’m the only one in it! They’re just eating their lunch, but it’s me who is eating as fast as I can. Lunch is usually a small side of vegetable with a little meat, and then the pile of rice. They eat it like it’s nothing, yet halfway through I probably look like I’m going to vomit and pass out, possibly not in that order.

In my defense, these kids have super high metabolisms. First, they’re all teenagers. I remember the damage I could do to a refrigerator at 16, and let me tell you, it was impressive. Second, they’re all pure muscle. I consider myself a semi-fit person, but I haven’t even been in a liquor store with more six packs than our Mess Hall at lunch. Third, they work up a very healthy appetite playing football (soccer) in every spare minute of their day.

        At the end of lunch, I’m sitting by myself. Even though I feel a little sick at the last bite, I enjoy it. In the U.S, I’m a little obsessive about food. We are all constantly thinking about what we’re going to eat and when we’re going to eat it. My pile of rice is more than a meal. It’s what food is supposed to be, life, and a humble reminder that I am very lucky to have my pile of rice.

A half-eaten pile of rice.