Tom Daley, Mariah Carey and an unfortunate grape incident

Hello everyone! It's now officially December and so I think that even the biggest Scrooge's among us are starting to feel the slightest bit of "OHMAGAWDSANTAISCOMINGGGG" mania. Decorations are going up (or, if you live with my Mother, they've already been up since the middle of November), the tins of incredibly overpriced biscuits and chocolates are being cracked out on living room tables everywhere (how does everyone else manage to get to the strawberry cream ones first?), and, most excitingly,  it's now acceptable to whip out this bad boy that I have to skip past on my phone for all the other 11 months of the year:

And I think we can all agree, that is, what they call, A TUNE.

Usually I find the most exciting part about this year is that, because it gets darker early, the hours within which it is socially acceptable to drink get longer ("it's 5'clock somewhere!" is my favourite "don't judge me" line). But alas, this year, due to all this trying to lose a bit of weight malarkey I am going to have to forgo all the excitement of cracking open a bottle of £3.99 Rucio wine at half 4 in the afternoon.
That being said, I do have a bit of a confession to make. You see, I went out on Saturday night, primarily to go and see the Christmas Fayre they have started putting on in the town every year, and secondarily to go to the pub and meet my friend's sister who was up from the shires of Devon.
Now, I finished work at 2pm on Saturday, and I planned to nap for a bit and then set off to the Fayre around 7 to have a look at all the overpriced, home made organic hand washes and pretend that I look interested in them, whereas in actual fact the only way they'd get me to part with my hard earned greengrocer dollar would be to be selling Tom Daley (I picked him over Tom Hardy because you just know Daley would do anything for a fiver and to have his picture taken), after which I would then go to the pub, have one glass of wine and then retire to bed ready for work the following morning.
What with all that being planned, I was quietly confident that that was how it would all go and it would be a bloody marvelous evening, fueled mainly by festive cheer. Well it got sent down the creek without a paddle when we arrived at the Fayre at half 7 and it had all been packed away and there wasn't a homemade organic candle, nor even a mince pie (not that bothered abut the last bit, not a fan of the mince pies, which, as we know, are lies wrapped in pastry) in sight. And so, we headed to the pub, which then turned into two pubs, and my one glass of wine turned into six large glasses of wine, accompanied by two shots of Apple Sours and an exploit I barely remember whereby I got the number of someone I went to school with and attempted to sext them with wine brain. Which is completely magical and appropriate behaviour, I'm sure you would agree.

So yes, that evening didn't go according to plan. On top of that festive binge, I also have not even once attempted to go jogging since the first trial, but in my defense the weather outside is frightful, and the fire is so delightful (but don't let it snow, because I hate the stuff). Butttttttt, in good news, I have done well with the whole not stuffing my face full of cheese, biscuits and crisps so the eating is on track - in fact, the My Fitness Pal app keeps telling me if I keep eating like I am I will become malnourished and die ("I'm one stomach flu away from my goal weight!") Which leads me to believe, seeing as I really don't seem to be eating much less than I was, that sometimes the app is full of shit. It seems impossibly hard to eat 1800 calories a day, I keep having about 500 left after everything I've eaten during the day, and almost feel as though I should snack on a bag of sugar to make it up. Or, maybe, that is their clever little ploy to keep you using the app, because if you aren't a fat blob you won't use the app and they would get no money from their adverts. Hmmmmm.

But anyway, fingers crossed that all goes well for the upcoming (drum roll please:)

Cheers, YouTube.

*ahem* FINGERS CROSSED THAT IT ALL GOES WELL FOR THE UPCOMING, FIRST EVER, SET TO BE A WEEKLY THING:

CARLO'S WEEKLY WEDNESDAY WEIGH OFF

WATCH AS CARLO TAKES ON A SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST AS MAN GOES AGAINST FAT, HOMO GOES AGAINST UNFABULOUS FLAB, AND A BORDERLINE ALCOHOLIC GRAPPLES WITH HIS POSSIBLY GENETIC DEMONS. 

So yeah, that will be happening on Wednesday. Good stuff. Please feel free to weigh in with me and share your triumphs, or even if you've accidentally swallowed a hammock of cheese and gained six pounds, it's all welcome over here.

See you all Wednesday!

SOME CARLO STATS:

Jogs to date: 1

Miles jogged: 2.44

Mad collies, that think I'm a sheep, encountered: 1

Christmas Fayres missed: 1

Large glasses of wine drunk: 6

People from school I have unsuccessfully attempted to sext: 1

Times I have listened to All I Want For Christmas Is You during the writing of this blog : 12