Sunday, 28 April 2013

When your cups runneth over...

After what feels like the longest winter in the history of winters, last week the sun popped out and here in Blighty, we actually had a warm day. Halli-freakin'-lullijah! Now, when I say warm, I don't mean frolicking in bikinis, or busting out the paddling pool - but simply being able to throw on a T shirt and wear open toed shoes for the first time in 8 months... People actually smiled in the street and everything.

However, the only problem with the onslaught of summer, is how to wear all those slinky strapless dresses, or tiny tight tanks - with appropriate underwear. I'm not talking about shoving my arse into spanx or to thong or not to thong (who thongs these days? Cheesewire...) I mean in the brassiere department. It is the one time of year, when I envy all those women with bee-stings for boobs - the non moving boob type -  I mean, they can wear ANYTHING: just chuck on a boob tube maxi dress, or some thin strapped frock, or a little itsy bitsy teeney weeny bikini top in all those purdey colours... But what about all of us chicks who can carry pencils in unusual places ?

I have been a DD or and E cup since I was 17. Puberty came late and I went from being called skateboard (on account of not even having bee stings) to WHAM! Curves - overnight! And during pregnancy - jaysus - I could have taken your eye out if I turned round too quickly. I am the only women I know who has had a midwife RECOIL from my milk filled mammeries. She genuinely worried that I would smother my baby if I breast fed... Thank gawd they have snapped back into reasonable shape - but still, when I go bra shopping it is always an ordeal...

Hanging on the rails are all the dainty pretty bras - ones that have padding on the side and bows and lace and all things delicate and petite - for the petite boobs that they will duly hoist. I don't need the hoisting so much. Just the support. Two weeks ago, my Mum decided to buy me a bra for my birthday -  so we swung by the lingerie shop in my little village. The woman who eyed me up (always a bit weird - having some take a good old gawk at your knockers), said she could name my size on sight. Turns out in one bra I was a 30F. F!!!!!!! In another a 32E (which to be fair, was my size from 18 onwards). But try getting a bra in a size when you have a small back, yet your cup does indeed runneth over... nearly impossible. Every bra that I veered towards, the shop assistant would shake her head and say 'not in your size... sorry...' It made me feel slightly freakish...

So, I polled all my workmates and friends - women who have been blessed in the boob department - and asked, 'where can I get a decent friggin' bra?' Something pretty, NOT padded (I have enough of my own thanks) and not looking like something during the 'maternity years.'

They came up with this place - Freya underwear being amazing for women who want support AND style. They do fantastic swimwear as well. Who says you have to be a B cup to look amazeballs in a bikini? They also suggested I head on over to Bravissimo - which I have in fact  visited in the flesh, (in their Covent Garden store) before. Back then I invested in some uber comfy T shirt bras that husband calls affectionately my 'old lady bras'; being flesh coloured with a strap the size of a brick isn't exactly sexy. But sexy and supportive are two words that seem mutually exclusive when it comes to finding a decent bra. So, where were we? Oh yes. Back to the shop, with my Mother and the psychic bra advisor - I eventually pumped for a Empreinte bra that cost a small fortune. It ticks the boxes on support and pretty and not stratchy itchy lace, etc - but I've got to say, I think Freya and Bravissimo do the same job at a much more reasonable price.

But it really is the holy grail of the summer - finding a great bra that allows you to wear halter neck tops and all those fashionable dresses that seem to hang by mere threads. Then, I don't have to envy the (almost) skateboard girls any more... and subscribe to the theory - if you've got it, hoist it upwards, outwards - and damn well flaunt it!


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