Recently I started a weight loss regime of old standbys — exercise and a balanced diet — when friends and colleagues of mine started “The Big Boy’s Club” I thought it the epitome of anti-health. The BigBoy’s Club started as a challenge for friends to finish their plates at Knott’s Berry Farm’s chicken dinner restaurant. From then on not only did they eat out together, they encouraged each other to eat mass quantities of food until making themselves sick, verging on various forms of food comas. As this became tradition they decided to make an official club. Club President Joe Tarbet wrote a constitution and submitted it for approval. I was dismayed when I heard this club had received an endorsement and would be one of the clubs on campus to get part of my student fees.
After weeks of torment for my disdain of the group I decided to go and see what a Big Boy’s initiation was all about. After a long day, I verged from my routine of a calorie blasting rendezvous with the elliptical machine and went to the Big Boy’s initiation of two of its newest members. Tonight’s challenge: all you can eat pancakes. The idea of gorging on fluffy white carbs and whipped fat made me sick but I quickly learned that Big Boy’s Club initiations were about more than that. There was an odd sense of camaraderie that night.
As initiate A began to give up on his eleven pancake gauntlet; the current members gathered round to shout out encouragements. One member started massaging his shoulder’s saying, “You got this,” as if the initiate was preparing for the last match of a boxing championship. Initiate B sat two seats down with his eleven pancakes and four glasses of soda, repeating to himself “slow and steady wins the race.” I was perplexed by the seriousness of this challenge that initially I thought to be utter ridiculousness. As “dinner” continued the members questioned my presence there; one member likening me to Hitler, calling me food Nazi. He was convinced I was a spy, planning anti-Big Boy’s Club campaigns.
Both initiates passed their test and were proudly welcomed into the Big Boy’s Club with the “appropriate sign;” one hand on the belly and a moan of overfed ecstasy. I now reluctantly admit that I see the Big Boy’s Club differently. On the surface the club is a guild of men, and one woman, thriving on the pride of eating a lot, but truly it is about brotherhood (or sisterhood) and the love of food. It’s about stress release through social interactions, though this activity puts you through a different kind of stress. The Big Boy’s Club is about fun and friendships. Though I may prefer to find other common interests as foundations for my relationships, I was appreciative for the insight into this bonding ritual. I relinquish my swastika to the Big Boy’s Club and vow to forever more support its founding ideals: Food, Friendship, and Fun.
Charity Johansen is a senior music major from Midway. She can be reached at charjohan@yahoo.com
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