I decided that if I am going to do this, I might as well do it properly and get all the right gear. So off I went to the shopping outlet village with the hope of picking up some bargains.
It probably wasn't the best idea as I left the Nike and Reebok shops feeling like a heffer as nothing for sale in the ladies wear section was big enough. Onwards then to the underwear shop to purchase a decent sports bra - having read in a magazine that apparently boobs have no muscle, and once the ligaments have been stretched there is no going back - not a thought that filled me with joy.
I picked up a couple of styles that I thought were my size - why are sports bras so ugly - and headed off into the changing room. They didn't fit at all, and having no idea why, I called over the rather nice lady handing out the tag things. She then proceeded, without warning to whip off the offending garment, leaving my top half completely naked, look at the size both of me and the bra, and shook her head in horror.
Completely the wrong size apparently. To my delight, I am a back size smaller than I thought, but to my dismay three whole cup sizes bigger?! The lovely lady trotted off and came back with a selection, which to be fair to her fitted me perfectly. And she spent the next half an hour prodding, pulling and yanking at my chest to ensure that I had the best fit possible.