There are a few moments in life that truly take your breath away. Seeing the baby of someone you love for the first time, the moment two newlyweds see each other as one walks down the aisle, the most beautiful sunset as you sit on holiday with a cocktail in hand… and that moment you first put on a bra that actually fits.
All right, so it might not be quite on the same level, but the transformative powers are just as incredible.
I’ve had that moment a few times in my life (the bra, not the bride thing, FYI). In my teens I sat a comfortable B then seemingly overnight, I was a C. Then a D. Then a DD.
The problem? My boobs didn’t tell me they’d grown, so I was wearing my trusty C bra when I was approaching a DD. The signs were all there – the spillage over the top, the angry red marks from the straps digging in, the erm, steadily drooping support.
When it became too much to ignore, I went and got fitted. The results were instant. My posture was straighter, my clothes looked better. I vowed, never again.
But a few years later, and here I was again. And again. The most recent time it was denial. I could no longer plead ignorance to the giveaway signs but the thought of having to replace my entire underwear drawer again kept me away, even when I had only one getaway-able bra - a black lacy one, which was nice but not exactly practical for the smoothest lines under a plain white t-shirt or running for the bus, you know?
So last week I found myself getting fitted by the experts at Berlei. The size was right but my tired bras had stretched to the point of no return. They were ready to be retired, long ago. It became blindingly obvious as soon as I had put on the Womankind bra I was recommended, the latest and kindest bra yet from Berlei.
