You got me.
I braved the scales.
It was not pretty.
I blame the mince pies.
And the prosecco.
And the After Eight mints.
There was also what can only be described as a ‘Christmas Cake Incident’. I made a big one. We were going to take it with us on a family visit. But it wouldn’t fit in the car / might have got left there by accident / we forgot all about taking it / no one probably would have wanted to eat it anyway*.
There’s this thing about Christmas. About the buying of food that you don’t even want, don’t even need, and to be frank, makes no sense.
Take chocolate biscuits. I like them. Rather a lot TBH. When I am in Tesco doing the Weekly Big Shop I tend to purchase a packet or four. Chocolate digestives mostly. Or, if I am feeling flash or flush a dark chocolate HobNob. A packet. Not a tin. Especially not a tin with some in that you don’t even like and will still be at the back of the cupboard come Easter. And a tin where you have to dive in straight away to get the one you really like before someone else eats it when you not looking.
And don’t even get me started on Cheese Footballs.
But lets face it. I can blame Christmas. I can blame the supermarkets and their seductive advertising. I can even blame all of the Prosecco. But the only reason I’m in a ‘comfortable’ (e.g. elasticated waist) trouser today, is me. I ate too much of it.
Time to sort it. Get it back off. Before the trousers become a permanent fixture.
Mind you…. there are some of those biscuits left in the back of the cupboard.
*Ok. We decided to keep it and eat it all ourselves. It isn’t my fault. Tim Scott made me do it.