What IS a normal portion?

American portions have thoroughly corrupted my gastronomical happiness. While killing time before seeing the new Pirates flick, a couple of friends and I had dinner at a tapas place. We each ordered two of the Spanish appetizers, mine consisting of a generous piece of bread topped with tomato paste, Serrano ham and drizzled with olive oil, and a small spinach and cheese omelet. The Serrano ham and bread was bursting with flavor; the omelet, regrettably, not as much. Needless to say, even though we rejected the waiter’s offer of the dessert menu, I found myself wondering if I had eaten enough. There had to be something wrong with that picture; after all, I was leaving a restaurant sans either a doggy bag or an enormously stuffed stomach. I considered stopping for some ice cream as we meandered our way to the theater, but ultimately decided against it. As I was driving home, I realized I was still comfortably full from the seemingly minuscule meal, not overstuffed but certainly not hungry.

In that instant, I realized how messed up our way of eating truly is. I cannot remember the last time I walked out of a restaurant not feeling like there was a hundred pound brick sitting in my stomach. And this isn’t just true for American food restaurants; almost every ethnic eatery I exit leaves me feeling the same. I realized I don’t actually know what normal full feels like. Usually, I stop eating when my plate is clean, which, more often than not, also coincides with the time I physically cannot eat anymore. And this is coming from a girl of normal weight who (despite my previous post) does get some daily exercise. If I, as a fit, healthy individual, do not know when my body is naturally full, NO WONDER we have an obesity crisis in this country.