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.

Special Birthday Post! It is 1:45pm when I wake up. I eat my favorite breakfast, put some egg nog in my coffee, and get a big hug from my son. While I see the present sitting in my spot on the couch, it will have to wait for everyone to get here. I pick up my daughter from school. It is a warm, beautiful day in mid-December. So beautiful that the ice cream truck is out. The kids play outside. I work out, shower, run errands. When I come home, Husband is already helping to cook dinner for our guests. We make out in the kitchen. Everyone arrives, including my brand new nephew who I get to hold for several long stretches. Everyone enjoys my homemade alfredo. I leave for work, stopping to pick up my favorite coffee drink and pastry- which was the last cheese danish left in the case. I have 10 minutes, so I sneak over to Bath and Body Works to pick up gifts-and I find exactly what I wanted for the recipient. As I'm walking back to my car, it occurs to me that I can't think of a birthday I've enjoyed more. Thank you, family of mine, for making it possible (and a quick shout-out to the universe, for saving me that last cheese danish).

Etiquette Coach

I walked in to Old Navy to exchange some boots. Since I didn't have a receipt, I went straight to the checkout line. There was only one customer in front of me, a woman with two tween girls in tow. One of these girls was sitting in a stroller, legs dangling over the sides so she could scoot herself around. I saw she was doing this before I got in line, and I made sure to give her plenty of space. Very soon, however, she starts backing up straight toward me. The woman she was with was watching her do this, and continued to chat with the cashier. The woman made eye contact with me as I stepped back, and stepped back some more, to avoid the girl bumping into me. The woman continues chatting with the cashier, saying nothing to me nor the child trying to play the world's most unfair game of bumper cars with me. As I am being pushed further toward the back of the store, I decide to simply step to the side, out of the backing zone. Still not a word from the woman to the child.
Now, Mama always said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." Not my mama, but someone's. Also, as an avid reader of Miss Manners, I know there are no occasions for which rudeness is acceptable. In those few minutes, my brain could not conjure a sentence that did not include a) a 4-letter word, b) a command, rather than a request, and c) the need to be spoken with my outside voice -to get this woman to tell the kid to KNOCK IT OFF! So I said nothing. I simply moved out of the kid's way and seethed silently with rage. There is truly no good way to either reprimand someone else's child, or to ask a parent to please remember that people other than their children exist, but I know that part of the reason I couldn't think of anything polite to say was because the devil on my shoulder said, "This lady obviously doesn't give a fuck how you feel, why should you show her any courtesy?" Luckily, Miss Manners won that round, and I will just remain hopeful that there will never be another.