10" crescent wrench. Check. 16 oz hammer. Check. Tape measure. Check. Level. Check.
The only challenging part was trying the thing on and making sure I could get all my tools I was buying to fit in properly. In a crowded store aisle I had to look like I knew what I was doing in front of all that other Fort McMurray testosterone. So onward I went, rather like a young female adolescent struggling into her first brassiere. I think I did a good job at hiding my self-consciousness.
In the end, everything worked out. I plane to take it in to work next week so I get accustomed to wearing it and then I'm sure it will feel like a second skin soon enough.
The best part of all was that, with a waistline most women would kill for, my fully-kitted belt didn't fall down to my ankles, dragging my jeans with it.....and I didn't need to cinch it up to the very last notch either.
Ah! There's hope for me yet!