What's in a name?

Although in my early years my mother was afraid that I wasn't getting enough to eat, I quickly earned a reputation for having an insatiable appetite for ice cream. Later on my mother was more worried about how much I ate and the speed with which I could chow down. When the time came and I left for college it took my parents months to learn not to cook way too much food for dinner. Later on, when I came home for holidays there'd seldom be anything left on the table.

Meanwhile my friends at college often made the mistake of asking me how many guests I was expecting when I'd merely be cooking dinner for myself. This led to speculations regarding whether my digestive system resembled that of a cow (you know, the four stomachs) or if perhaps there was simply a garbage disposal unit where my esophagus should have been..