Ahhh, summer. The time of year when the sun shines, the beach calls and my wardrobe does a whiplash-inducing 180 from cheery colours to a strictly monochrome look. Why? Because, dear reader, I’m a woman who just has to glance at a warm weather report to feel the onset of sweat beads on my forehead and damp patches under my arms. My ability to sweat when the going gets hot means my summer sartorial choices are entirely based on what’ll best hide the fact I’m risking dehydration just by existing – and for many years, I thought I was the only one.
You see, I grew up thinking women don’t sweat. I’d never see women sweating in adverts or TV shows or movies, unless I was
