There's nothing more pitiful than a hungry, 15-year-old boy who can't chew his food.
I know because I've got one at home. My older son has spent the last six weeks recovering from jaw surgery.
Mark KennedyView other columns by Mark Kennedy
I recently caught him standing by the meat counter at Food City, deciding what cut of steak he wanted for his celebratory "first meal." His surgeon told him to not start with a thick steak, so he was looking for a cut of meat that was only a half-inch thick but a yard wide. (Way to put that geometry to use, son.) To my knowledge, this was the first time he had ever contemplated raw meat.
Poor thing.
Since the week before Christmas, he has essentially been on an all-mush diet. Unable to chew because of lower-jaw surgery related to his orthodontia, he hasn't consumed anything more solid than applesauce. No mountains of broccoli. No buckets of chicken fingers or bottomless pizza buffets. Just lots of soup, mashed potatoes, pulverized beans and crumbled Life cereal. Sometimes, he's so desperate for calories that he snacks on Pixie Sticks, those little tubes of candy that are essentially straight sugar.
For the first couple of weeks after his surgery, his jaws were so swollen he could barely get one finger between his teeth. Even if he wanted to, it was hard to shove enough soft food through the opening to satisfy his teenage metabolism.
As a result, he has lost about eight pounds of body weight from a frame that was thin to begin with.
I suspect that once the industrial strength rubber straps come off his braces, he will eat until he swells up like the Pillsbury Doughboy. But he practices soccer nearly every day, so any pudginess is likely to be shed quickly.
I've been interested to see how my middle-class son would react to even this small deprivation. He hasn't whined or complained one bit. In fact, I'd say a little delayed gratification has been good for him.
A little taste of hunger is good for kids who have known nothing but abundance.