Spanx are a gal's best friend

It's official: winter is on its way and I am loving it. Perfect excuse for lazy evenings cosied up on the sofa with my man, watching rubbish on telly and flicking through the Boots gift guide, trying to find the best way to fully exploit the 3-for-2 offer. It also means thick tights and faux fur Fuggs (or fake Uggs to the label whores out there)are once again a perfectly acceptable daily wardrobe choice, not to mention novelty knitted hats complete with cutesy animal ears.

But my favourite thing about Wintumn has got to be the feeding. Oh, the feeding.

Gone are the summer salads bursting with vitamins and good intentions; my current diet consists of Anything Potato-Based That Can Be Cooked In The Oven. Cheese has slowly crept into my list of essential daily snacks, and all those lovely mugs of tea required to warm my little chilled bones require an accompanying biccie or five. I mean, it would be rude not to.
My brain tells me "you know you're going to regret this when you see photos of your chubster chops all over Facebook post-Xmas party season", but my body says "see them spuds and gravy? Get them in ma bellay STAT."

But it's not just the casseroles, the stews, the baked spuds dripping with Utterly Butterly: there's all that booze that comes with it. I struggle to contain my inner alcoholic at the best of times, but cold dark evenings are my drinking Kryptonite. Everyone knows Sauvignon Blanc perfectly compliments the delicate and complex flavours of a plate of cheesy chips.

My new dietary habits seem to be contagious; to my delight The Scotsman has rapidly moved from occasional wine drinker to fully-fledged "my teeth are itchy for a large glass of red" status, which is great because it makes my wine fetish look reasonable. I'm delighted to tell you his expanded palate has included a new tolerance for stinky cheeses; during a recent grocery shop a burst of inspiration at the memory of a freebie bottle of red plonk in our kitchen led to the purchase of a tub of Saint Agur and some cream crackers. In record time we were rubbing our bellies, chewing at our tannin-stained lips and generally feeling very pleased with ourselves.

And it's only the start of November. Looks like I'll be asking Santa for some lovely, belly-friendly maternity jeans then...(worth it).