I'm flashing back to Thanksgiving, when my body slips into a food-induced coma.
I am stuffed. Literally stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. But instead of cornbread and celery, my Thai curry chicken lunch is cramming my insides. It's miserable and American. Like our borders, the circumference of our plates keeps getting wider, and there isn't an Ocean to stop it! From burgers to burritos, to drinks and even ice cream scoops, portion sizes--like the obesity rate--just keep growing.
How much do we really need to live? And the more realistic question, how much food do we need to feel satisfied? Probably not nearly as much as you or I would think.
- ES
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