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.
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Of course you could just buy the right size.