We’ve been through a lot since March 2020 – life is short, just eat the muffin

Imet a friend for breakfast this week. It’s going to take time to adjust to doing normal things again. I’m still at the alien on a day trip from Jupiter stage. “The shine on that cutlery!’’ “A caramel latte? What a concept!’’

Getting dressed for Outside Adventures is the hardest part. If my daughter goes too long between snacks she gets hungry and angry. Hangry.

If I wear something I have to adjust or be in any way conscious of while wearing, I suffer from a bad case of uncomf-gry.

That’s why, in a masochistic sort of way, I enjoyed the first lockdown.

Only right at the beginning, mind, when we didn’t know how long it would go on for and staying at home felt like a novelty.

Pre-covid, our household rule was bath, pyjamas and story at 6pm. For me, that is. Not my seven-year-old. Imagine my delight when that schedule was mandated in law.

Nicola Sturgeon all but told us that underwired bras were banned. At least, that’s what I took from the daily briefings.

Lockdown meant daytime pyjamas and night-time pyjamas, and I was happy to play my part in stopping the spread.

Next week, restrictions will be eased further. Our return to the Before Times has never been closer. But instead of focusing on the fun stuff to come, we’re being made to feel like failures for how we coped when life as we knew it changed beyond recognition.

Right now, women’s magazines are full of “inspirational’’ tales of how women have successfully lost the “lockdown stone’’ or – as your uncle puts it – “the Covid-19… pounds, haha’’.

Inside “We Hate Women Weekly”, wee Donna from Manchester confesses to moving less and eating more last year.

These magazines make half of their revenue from zoomed-in photos of celebrity cellulite. When women are feeling sufficiently bad about themselves, they earn the other half by offering a diet plan that will help you “get your body back’’.

They say this will happen in 21 days. The “plan” usually involves eating a lot of cottage cheese and doing squats while shouting: “Where is my body?”

Pre-covid, it was toxic. Now, it’s obscene. They are peddling the nonsense idea that we’ve got to shrink ourselves to be acceptable to the outside world again.

I’ve put on weight this last year. I don’t know how much. Enough for my daughter to remark how lovely and squishy my tummy is whenever she’s cooried in.

Most people I know have put on weight. My neighbour’s dog has put on weight. And what does “get your body back’’ mean?

Our bodies have been here this whole time. Sitting on the couch. Walking to the kitchen. Curled up against tiny wee humans who love everything about them.

The way we speak about weight fluctuation you’d think it was some terrible curse and not a normal part of life.

I don’t want to go all Jason Leitch here but… we are in the middle of global pandemic.

When folk on sci-fi programmes survive a zombie apocalypse you don’t see them at the end discussing how “naughty’’ they were for eating a family-sized bag of Doritos during the trek to the bunker.

We’ve been through a lot. Life is short. Eat the muffin.

Gwyneth Paltrow made headlines this week. When she’s not extracting her divine essence to flog a few candles, she has a part-time job as a lifestyle guru.

But for Gwyneth, lockdown meant a departure from her usual schedule of green juices and naked goat yoga.

“I was drinking seven nights a week and making pasta and eating bread. I went totally off the rails,’’ she said.

PASTA? BREAD?? It’s a slippery slope. Next she’ll be on the Lurpak. Gwyneth needs to cut herself some slack. We all do, actually.

The first time we cuddle a loved one we haven’t seen for a long time, they won’t be thinking about whether our bodies are bigger or smaller than they were before.

And to all those singletons who have been following the rules for the last 415 days (who’s counting?) then your body – whatever size, shape or consistency it is – will be just fine whenever you are ready to reactivate that Tinder account.

Slowly but surely, we’re getting back to normal. But that doesn’t mean we need to ditch everything that has brought us comfort or pleasure over this last strange year.

Elasticated trousers are lovely to wear. So, to use one of Gwyneth’s phrases, I have decided to consciously uncouple from my skinny jeans.

And if we work hard over the next 21 days then we can ensure that those big, joyful clown trousers become the hot sartorial trend of the summer of freedom.

I have decided to consciously uncouple from my skinny jeans

OFF THE RAILS: Gwyneth Paltrow admitted “drinking seven nights a week, making pasta and eating bread” during the pandemic.