Size matters . . .
I’ve got to have a wetsuit for the Hartlepool Marina Triathlon in August, and I figure that buying sooner rather than later will mean more time to put in some open water practice. I’ve chosen my suit (details once it arrives and gets its first outing), but before I can order it, I need some accurate measurements - a good fit is essential.
So yesterday afternoon, I visited my tailor to have the measurements taken (I could have done it myself, but a gentleman should always leave this sort of thing to his chap). The trouble was that the callow youth in Next obviously couldn’t work the tape measure, as he had my waiste measurement down at 35-36″. Now that can’t be right!
At this point, I started to hear a rousing chorus of “Who’s Been Eating All The Pies” from somewhere behind me.
There was no-one else at hand in the store, so I went to the place that I usually buy my suits from , where the chap had a much more flattering tape measure, pegging my waiste at 32″. THIRTY TWO INCHES!? It’s been ten years since I was that size! Woo Woo Woo!
Now, if only I could smooth out this skin, and figure out how to return my hair to it’s natural colour . . .