I tested the waters initially by telling a few very close friends. Aside from a couple of odd comments – “Have you tried going for a run?”. Yes – I used to exercise at a gym six days a week with a personal trainer and do three hours of pilates a week (I was still fat). “Have you tried Atkins?”. Duh. Of course I’ve tried these things. But being as fat as I’ve become isn’t just a one or two factored thing. It’s been a two decade long fight between my hormones and my propensity to find solace in the bottom of a box of Fortnum’s Marc de Champagne truffles at the first sign of any emotional distress. Oh, and over eight years of self-abasing with all kinds of fertility medications.

I’m incredibly lucky to have such supportive friends and family. Everyone has pretty much seen past the idea of it being a cheater’s way out of obesity, and has seen that me giving myself this tool is actually a very positive thing which will lengthen my life. My mother and in-laws were particularly supportive, and this has meant the world to me.

My husband also deserves a hefty pat on the back, accepting in his usual stoic way that this is a choice I’m in part making for our family, but actually mostly (selfishly) making for myself, because I want to feel better about me.

I’m confident their support will continue for the most part. Another worry and common theme I’ve noticed a lot of people write about is that they lose some friends when they lose a lot of weight. I suppose it’s quite the gravitational shift with friendship if someone goes from being the ‘fat’ one, to no longer being the fat one.

There’s comfort in a fat friend. Comfort in almost always being seen as more attractive than they are. Comfort in knowing that people will notice you over them, so they have to try harder socially than you might do. Fat people are also more comfortable to cuddle too, being all soft and squishy.

Will my friends still find my hugs comforting when I’m a bit more bony, I wonder?