Yes, lovely readers, I did go shopping for new bikinis as I said I would yesterday. And very successfully too. One set, a bright sapphire blue, was in a half-price sale, while the other, a luscious turquoise, wasn’t, not that the price stopped me (Mr D nearly had a dicky fit though!)
Cost Centre 1 came with me as my trusty fashion advisor and changing room runner. She earned her keep today by bringing in a continual supply of new tops and matching bottoms to try on, until we had the perfect sets.
I’m pleased to say the purchases satisfied my two criteria, keeping the ‘girls’ under control and being pretty.
So far so good. But how on God’s green earth can you possibly knock yourself out with your own boobs while shopping for bikinis? Surely it’s not that physical an activity? The answer lies with my next purchase, a new pair of running shoes.
I’ve always gone to a running shop to have my trainers fitted. It’s good to make sure you have the right type of shoe for the distance you plan to run, the terrain, as well as for your running style. I popped into the shop, pleased with myself that I’d remembered to bring my own running socks, and waited my turn to have my running gait analysed.
With my first test shoes on, I jumped onto the treadmill while the assistant set everything up. The belt started off nice and slowly, and with the word “ready” he turned up the pace. I was super-pleased with how quickly I adapted to the pace and how cushioned the shoes felt.
The belt slowed and I was given the results… “great news, you have a lovely neutral gait.”
All that yoga has helped me strengthen my legs and ankles so I do not overpronate (roll in on my ankles) any more. No more clunky trainers for me. I tried on another pair and got back in the treadmill again. This time the assistant, confident that I was capable on the machine, turned the speed right up. And that’s when it happened!
The ‘girls’ took on a life of their own, much to the amusement of everyone passing the shop window! Their wild oscillations were gaining momentum until I gave up my last shred of dignity, took each one in hand, and clutched them tightly to my chest.
Slightly breathless and very red-faced, I stepped off the treadmill, beating a hasty retreat to my chair. Taking my new shoes to the counter, I hastily paid for them and shot out of the shop as fast as possible.
Note to self, next time I test out new trainers, make sure I am suitably upholstered underneath as well as bringing running socks.
Wishing you all a serene Sunday xx