Crybaby wrote: Beth wrote:Yeah, Michelle, even I was surprised that I let the stuff touch......Hahahahaha! (Oh, dear, is my OCD apparent to everyone???)
You won't believe this, Beth, but I never even noticed you didn't have stuff touching in your pics until you pointed it out to me! You and Jimmy would hate eating here. If I serve your plate, things would definitely be touching. My mom used to say (right before she cleaned her plate, of course) that I served "truck driver portions." I did indeed. Not anymore, as neither Brian nor I eat as much as we did when we were younger. Plus we always eat less in warmer weather.
I've never been one to eat a lot at one time ~ how in the world I ever managed to get to be the size I am today is still a mystery! A large serving on my plate is enough to make me lose my appetite. And cooking holiday meals, that's the worst. I love to do those meals for a dozen family members ~ Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter. But by the time everything is cooked and on the table I am unable to eat even a small meal. Maybe it's because I tasted while cooking (although I don't do that a great deal more than a test for seasoning, etc.) or the fact that I'm surrounded and overwhelmed by the fragrances of cooking foods in the kitchen all day. I did get smart, though. The last few big holiday gatherings I hosted I made up a plate of everything I loved and stored it away for the next day when I could reheat it and really enjoy it.
My late mother-in-law served me a gigantic plate of spaghetti for the first meal I was invited to at their house. I was just a tiny 98 pound 18 year old, nervous at hell. When I had eaten all that I could, which was probably 6 small bites, she looked at me and said, "We don't WASTE food at our house". I was SO embarrassed, I thought I was going to vomit. The only thing I could think of to say was, "If you wrap it up we'll take it home and Dane and I can reheat it for our supper another night". Whoops! She did not find anything but 'sass' in that comment.
It was MUCH different in my home growing up. We all served ourselves. We were expected to take a little of everything unless it was on our personal "I-cannot-eat" list (mine was cheese, brother Bill hated lima beans, brother Tom couldn't get down beets, none of us kids could eat liver although Mom & Dad loved it). But if we took it, we were expected to eat it. We also did not 'waste' food. But no one decided how much we should eat, like a 'forced feeding'. I think that's why Dane wanted to marry me....he wanted to have my family.