Competitive Eater

I find it is time for a bonafide rant.
We humans can be, and usually are, our own worst critics. Even so, I believe that I have a pretty healthy body image for someone who readily admits that cotton candy is her Kryptonite. That said, I know I am at least 20 pounds overweight. I do not say this to gain sympathy, to fish for reassurance, because I feel bad about myself, or for any reason even remotely connected to my menstrual cycle. I am not saying this because I'm having a bad day. I am not whining about this; I'm not really even complaining. It is a fact.
Just because it is something I can change does not make it less of a fact. Just because you think, "No! You look great!" does not make it less of a fact. Actually, I feel like I look fine, too. I am proud of my body. It still functions wonderfully: I have my motor skills and all five senses in tact. My body grew and nurtured two entire human beings into existence. I recognize these as feats to be celebrated, certainly I do. But I also must acknowledge that the reason I am not more than 20(ish) pounds overweight is because I watch what I eat (at least I try to in earnest; I really, really do. Damn the inventor of Tiramisu!) and I exercise like a fiend when I can. If I ignore the fact of my extra weight, I only set myself up for further weight gain and all the health problems that accompany it.
So, if I order a salad, it's because that is what I want; don't "That's all you're having?" me. If I turn down your offer of more food, please be aware that your reassurance of my looks is not necessary. It is a difficult task for me to say no to food; please do not try to make it harder for me. Until science figures out a way for you to work off the extra calories I took in by eating that double fudge cookie you offered me, please give me the common courtesy of trusting my judgment about my own body.