If there is a sure-fire way to shatter the dregs of one’s self-esteem, it has to be trying on a pile of clothes in various shop changing rooms.

And in the January sales, many of us have probably taken this reliable route, as DSM did today. Think you are getting a little too self-assured and big for your boots? Try going into a tiny cubicle with three-way mirrors and harsh lighting to magnify any imperfections you didn’t know you had or hadn’t thought were that bad. That’ll bring you crashing down to earth.

I also remember the 1980s when a number of fashion outlets had open plan changing rooms so everyone else could share the horror and I would inevitably find myself trying on a pair of stone-wash skin-tight jeans next to a tall, willowy goddess. As I wriggled and sweated to even pull them over my thighs and at least cover my off-white knickers the goddess would stand, resplendent in a long black dress which looked like it was tailor-made for her. At least now, clothing retailers have seen sense and given us poor normal folk some privacy to recoil and groan at our reflections.

And what is the antidote to this? What is something everyone can do which isn’t discriminated against by one’s body size? And I am not talking about ten-pin bowling or a game of Scrabble.

As far as I am aware (and I admit I am no biology expert) a woman’s vagina size is not proportionate to her dress size. Good sex doesn’t make you feel like you are forced into a cramped space surrounded by aggressive lighting and mirrors (unless that specifically turns you on). Good sex doesn’t make you worry about your belly or bum size. Good sex doesn’t cause you to leave the building shame-faced and wishing you hadn’t tried it on at all. Good sex doesn’t leave you concluding you are fat old bint with too many wobbly bits. Etcetera, etcetera.

But this is where it gets a bit sexist – for a change in favour of us ladies (if I can still label myself a ‘lady’). This is something I plan to cover in more detail in a future post, but briefly here, it is still arguable that size does matter when it comes to penises.

Poor men, eh? But the suggestions that its size can be predicted by shoe size or even the size of his hands or nose don’t always follow. I have seen examples that both prove and dispel these theories. I will save this for a penis-themed post, however, and for now enjoy the fact that The Man has size 11 feet and a wonderful, solid, tall and robust penis to match.