Retail therapy might be the best cure for a lovesick heart (and it’s not like I was even that hot on Matthew anyway), but shopping for running shoes really isn’t it. I was in trousers and a top and no underwear and they asked me to go on a treadmill to check my gait and recommend the right trainers for me. I’ve never been on a treadmill before and as well as hanging on for half of it my boobs were bouncing everywhere. There are times when underwear really makes a lot of sense.
Anyway, between those and leggings and running tops I came away about three hundred pounds poorer. I’ll go out and try the new gear tomorrow, I promise.