Why as a slim woman, I always have to tread on eggshells around my overweight friends

The holiday in Tenerife had been wonderfully relaxing. Not least because we had stayed at an all-inclusive hotel, which meant any request for food or drink was just a polite wave away.

Little wonder then that after a week of calorie-freighted cocktails served with more-ish bowls of nuts and crisps, I returned home a couple of unwelcome pounds heavier.

Hardly worth holding the front page for. Yet it’s the sort of bothersome detail that, as women, we often share with our closest pals. After all, isn’t empathy for even the most trifling concerns one of the great joys of female friendship?

But sitting in a cafe for a catch-up with an old school friend shortly after my trip, I found myself deliberately censoring this detail from our conversation. Why? Because, whether we like it or not, size matters, and my friend is significantly overweight.

It strikes me that I routinely walk, and talk, on eggshells when I’m with my friend, careful to avoid any topic that might highlight the disparity in our sizes

How on earth could I possibly moan about gaining a couple of pounds when I can still fit into my size ten jeans? Particularly as she’s been fighting the flab for years. Any complaints about my own weight would surely sound smug, disingenuous and profoundly annoying.

In fact, it strikes me that I routinely walk, and talk, on eggshells when I’m with her, careful to avoid any topic that might highlight the disparity in our sizes.

I don’t show her pictures of the slinky dress I’m hoping to buy for a special occasion as I might do with other slimmer friends. When we go out to eat, I pretend I’m full when I really want dessert as she’s always trying something — anything — to lose weight.

Not that she is alone in unwittingly triggering this judiciously calorie-free conduct from me.

There are others — friends, colleagues — who I cautiously tiptoe around as I know they, too, struggle to shed serious amounts of weight. Yes, it’s tiresome, but what else should I do?

Understandably, there will be many on the other side of the fence who say their plight is far worse: having to watch slim women who seem immune to weight-gain devour numerous chocolates and then slither into slinky dresses.

And admittedly editing what I say or eat is entirely self-imposed. Not to mention a tad disingenuous, as one especially savvy pal pointed out.

We were having lunch together when this friend, who was struggling with yet another unfeasible diet, ordered a miserable salad with no dressing. I felt compelled to do the same — even though after a busy morning at work I was yearning for a baked potato heaped with grated cheese.

Maybe she heard the roar of my stomach or saw the unenthusiastic expression on my face when our lunch arrived.

Either way she wrestled the fork from my hand and declared: ‘Ange, for goodness sake, just order what you want. I know what you’re up to and it doesn’t help. I’m overweight. Live with it. I know I do.’

She then went on to say that while she appreciated my attempts at sensitivity, it upset her more to think that I couldn’t be myself around her. What’s more, she felt patronised and belittled when friends went to great lengths to avoid anything that acknowledged a disparity between waistlines.

I felt ashamed and dumbfounded that my hugely wise, big-hearted and, yes, overweight friend had seen through my flaky, do-gooder routine. From that moment, I vowed to only ever act naturally and be true to myself and my waistline.

That was a few years ago and I’ve since fallen off that wagon.

I just feel it’s mean — and uncomfortable — to behave otherwise. But why? Particularly as I’m a journalist whose working life revolves around asking difficult questions and confronting thorny issues.

And I’m not to blame if willpower or a complex, even addictive, relationship with food makes it almost impossible for some to take only one biscuit from the tin. Nor is it my fault if, thanks to good genes and an inability to sit still, I’ve never had a weight problem. So what’s going on?

I should stress that my approach has nothing to do with prevailing woke culture that insists we soft-soap hard truths or take offence in a blade of grass.

If anything, health education about obesity should be unsparing — endorsing it as an acceptable life choice is not only foolish but, frankly, dangerous.

But when it comes to personal interaction with someone who is clearly overweight, I find myself warily doing everything I can to avoid drawing attention to my own slimmer size. Not because, heaven forbid, I’m smug, but precisely because I’m not.

It happened recently when a generously proportioned acquaintance came over to chat to me at a wedding reception. Her opening gambit was a compliment about the outfit I was wearing and how flattering it was for my figure.

‘How do you stay so slim? I’d never be able to wear anything like that,’ she observed as her eyes ran over the tulle dress that was neatly cinched in at my waist. Instead of enjoying the compliment, I did what I always do and tried to bat it away for fear of making her feel bad about herself.

I just feel it’s mean — and uncomfortable — to behave otherwise. But why? Particularly as I’m a journalist whose working life revolves around asking difficult questions and confronting thorny issues

‘This fabric is so itchy it should come with a health warning!’ I said. ‘Never mind the dress, these shoes are killing me!’ And then rapidly changed the subject.

Unfortunately, this dilemma has only got more prevalent as I’ve got older.

As a woman in her 50s, I constantly meet others who talk about grappling with unwanted weight because of hormonal and metabolic changes brought on by the menopause.

It’s a subject which looms large (sorry) since this life stage has become a prevailing topic of conversation through relentless celebrity endorsement.

Personally, I was fortunate to duck putting on weight during ‘the change’ and weigh perhaps only half a stone more than I did 30 years ago.

Though, it’s not all down to luck. I powerwalk, cycle and swim to stave off the pounds.

I put as much energy into keeping fit as I do avoiding the issue of size with my overweight friends. Yes, talking summer sandals instead of swimsuits is an avoidance tactic.

When it comes to size, I admit I am a massive coward.