‘I'm dreading Christmas drinks with my old school friends – what should I do?’

Dear A&E,

Every year, all my old school friends reunite for drinks between Christmas and New Year. This year, I’m dreading it because I’ve put on so much weight. I’ve been going through IVF, with all the accompanying physical and emotional side effects, and I don’t think I want to tell them about it as I’m already under so much pressure. It feels so shallow, but I’ve always felt like the skinny, glamorous one. What should I do? 

- Shallow

Dear Shallow,

Maybe it would be more fashionable to kick off with a riff about self-acceptance and the patriarchy. We could fill up a whole page with that. Enough of being congratulated for taking up less space in the world! Harder to smash the glass ceiling if you’re always hungry, right?

But let’s take that as read for now. What about this? You don’t have to go. We are not advising you to hide, but you are under a lot of pressure. You need to feel safe enough to gather your strength for what lies ahead with your fertility treatment. It is gruelling on every level. We wish you all the luck in the world.

These reunion scenarios – for all the nostalgia and shared memories – can be profoundly intimidating and draining. For all the nourishment that old friends give us, they can come with a side helping of discomfort. The out-grown roles that they have cast us in. And, equally, the roles we have cast ourselves in that now feel tight and itchy. 

Yearly meetings bring their own brand of pressure because we all feel that progress should have been made; that we need to report back on our “achievements”. Someone inevitably utters the lazy and appalling, “So, tell me about you?” How is anyone (apart from perhaps an American) supposed to answer that with any degree of enthusiasm? Annabel now just replies, “No”. Rude, but satisfying.

Will they notice your weight? Probably. It’s about what you do with that noticing. Here’s a truly fabulous thing to process: what people think or say about you is none of your business. It says more about them than it does about you. The problem here is what you feel about yourself. You are your harshest critic. You believe you are not fit to be seen.

Of course you can get out of these drinks and we give you a free pass to do so, but hiding in the shadows will tend to exacerbate that sense of self-disgrace. Shame, generally, cannot survive the light. Be glorious. Your body is reflecting your journey and you could take a moment to privately honour your own bravery and resilience. You are courageous and magnificent and so much more than a dress size. Skinniness is not a badge of honour. At our thinnest, both of us were at our maddest and most miserable. Heroin chic is death chic. We all know the damage that rubbish can do.

Also, know that “weight gossip” happens less and less. “Oh my God, have you seen so-and-so? They’ve put on…” feels like an anachronism. What fully-formed, whole-hearted human person talks like that anymore? There are of course still dinosaurs who see weight as a measure of success, but they are mostly just labouring under all manner of toxic emotional burdens or have, themselves, spent a lifetime suffering under the load of this poisonous narrative. “How can I feel superior?” they wonder in panic. “Oh yes, I (or my partner) am thinner.” Not a recipe for sparkling conversation. 

And, if you choose to walk into this room full of old friends, remember that it’s hard out there at the moment. You will inevitably be among people experiencing money problems, mental-health issues, grief, divorce, and any number of challenges. 

The glamorous one? Well, real glamour is only found in attitude. Think about what you can offer beyond glamour. Think about how your recent proximity to the coalface of life might help someone you see. Think about what you bring to the party in terms of compassion and humour and wisdom. 

Know that, although you may have cast yourself in the role of the glamorous one, that is not why your old friends want to see you. They are part of your ever-evolving story and you are part of theirs. Do you feel you might find any solace in seeing these school friends? Then go and know that you are in flux and that’s fine. Do you feel that the friendships have gone past their sell-by date and are now just being used as an index to mark each other on? 

Then stay on the sofa and don’t give it another thought until next year – when things could be very different.

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