Ok, so after the shower, I came out to the kitchen and got out my post surgery tiny container. I packed it full and weighed it. 2 oz. perfect. Then I took and empty one and measured water into in and poured it into a measuring cup. 3 ounces. Even better.
Now my mind is screaming: you're going to be hungry. you're going to starve. better take the big one just in case. you don't have to eat it all. Body's speaking back to mind: yeah, I don't have to eat it all, but we both know I will somehow. I will keep packing it in there until I want to barf. I don't know why.
For today, I chose to stop the insanity. I loved my tiny dishes right after surgery, and I loved my little spoons. Forced me to think and taste and be aware.
I'm not preaching. Honest I'm not. Just sharing where I am.
Have a good day you all.
hugs.
Little plates rock! (lol - I'm 51 - my mother would cringe at my language)