He stared at the spaghetti. He stared at the glowing red ring. Then, he looked at his old, chipped, porcelain IKEA plate sitting in the back of the cupboard—the one that didn't know his name, didn't care about his insulin, and certainly didn't have an opinion on who he wanted to be.
He stared at the bread. He felt the weight of the plate’s disappointment. He put the bread back. buy smart plate
The breaking point came on a rainy Tuesday. Arthur had a grueling day at work. He wanted comfort. He wanted a massive, un-calculated, non-audited pile of spaghetti carbonara He stared at the spaghetti
"Arthur," the app chirped, "this refined carbohydrate will spike your insulin and negate the recovery gains from your morning sprint. Are you sure this is who you want to be?" He stared at the bread
As he sat down, the plate’s rim pulsed a soft, reassuring blue.
Arthur stood up, transferred the pasta to the old plate, and placed the Smart Plate back in its box.