2 oz, Medium.

My parents and I were watching the weather together.
Gina had just left, announcing how she was angry, but for no apparent reason.
Dad looks at me and says: "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine"
"You're holding your hand up to your forehead, something's wrong"
Something was wrong. He just didn't know what it was and I wasn't going to tell him...because he would share his opinion and that would make the situation worse.
"Want me to make you some of that fish?"
This is weird...my dad never cooks, let alone for someone else!
"Nah, I don't want that"
"How about some chicken" Mom offered
"I don't want any of that"
Dad, walking over to the fridge. "Oh, here's some hamburger!"
"Yeah, I'll just make myself something in a minute"
Pulling out his steak that he brought home from going out Tuesday "Have this steak! There's gotta be 3 ounces in this piece."
Took out weigher, weighed it.
"OK, two ounces!"
"Are you sure dad? Don't you want it?"
"Of course I want it but I want you to have it because I love you"
I almost lost it right there. Over a two ounce piece of medium steak. My dad is a sweetheart.