As I write this, we are five days into January 2025. The world is awash with good intentions, teetotal advocates, and cut-price gym memberships. If you are anything like me, you will have gained some weight in the past month, or, at least, you will have done if you were doing Christmas properly. If you are one of those smug aberrations who managed to moderate your indulgences over Christmas through willpower and healthy coping mechanisms, I respect you, but we will never be friends.

But now, the fun times are over, the decorations have come down, and the festive debt is owed. It’s time to put right the damage you have done to your liver and your cholesterol levels. Or is it? I gave myself full permission to indulge over December and to not worry about either my calorie consumption or how much weight I gained, safe in the knowledge I would sort it all out come January. So, I ate. Boy, did I eat.

My muscles, such as they were, started to gently atrophy, my body became squishier, and my waistline started to expand. None of it mattered to me because it was all temporary. I would right all wrongs in just a few weeks, but now that January is here, I have found myself rethinking my plan because, dear reader, I have become rather fond of my belly.

No, I didn’t see this one coming either. But by creating a guilt-free window in which to gain weight without judging myself, I came to view my body, not through the lens of media messaging, but through my own eyes – and I really like my belly, goddamnit! I noticed myself stroking and patting it, like pregnant women do. I found it very comforting to have this gelatinous mound to cradle from time to time. I’ve never been really thin, but this is the first time I can recall having a proper gut, and I really like it.

It’s soft and round, with delicate, plump folds that I like to cup with my hands as I fall asleep. If my belly was a pillow, it would be described as “plush” and “luxurious”. I don’t even think it is........

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