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Bras post breast-feeding. The struggle is REAL.
This is almost always a mistake.
This time though, I decided it was going to be different.
This time, I was going to start with my boobs.
Yep, this week it became clear to me that it is in fact my underwear holding me back from undefined but probably GREAT THINGS . (Not, you know, my chronic exhaustion, crushing sense of inadequacy, borderline personality disorder or general incompetence. No no).
What’s more, it could well be my undercrackers jinxing
I mean, who really knows? My lingerie rut may have been responsible for numerous untimely celebrity deaths, and the unerring descent of the world into postmodern fascism. (Frankly it seems as likely an explanation as anything else I’ve read, usually involving the socio-economic disenfranchisement of the middle/working/lower classes, climate change, or the second coming).
If you’ve not heard of it before it’s called the butterfly effect. The idea is that the smallest of flutters can cause catastrophic ripples in, er, the
Anyhoo, all I really know is that I’ve been stuck for some time now in the nork-limbo of not wanting to buy more nursing bras because nursing was pretty much over, and clinging to the comfort of both my breastfeeding days and my buttery soft, flexible cups.
Those soft cups are now so old and so soft they’ve lost any questionable buoyancy
The epiphany hit.
And I knew I had let both my standards and my chest slip too far.
So for the good of my boobs, my life in general and very probably the world at large, I hit M&S in my lunch hour on Monday. I
All of which looked shit.
Basically I have no idea what size I am, or what style now suits my post-baby bosoms, and I am far too old, tired and unshaven to face the social awkwardness of having another grown woman lose and then attempt to retrieve her tape measure from the uncharted depths of my considerable overhang.
I used to be a balconette woman, because I like(d) things up front and central. For some reason the tops of my boobs are now kind of empty, so this
Undeterred, and buoyed by the novel sight of my midsection, I picked the least hideous of my options, and congratulated myself on my success – and the inevitable personal and global successes that would follow in due course.
Obviously, I avoided actually WEARING the new bra for a few days (and I therefore blame myself for the
Anyway, later in the week I had a big meeting. So I decided, in my wisdom, to man up – or at least mammary up – venture into real underwear, and power
By about 10am this decision had sparked many, many questions. Amongst them, the following:
Why why why IN GOD’S NAME would women do this to themselves?
Who invented this device? Take me to them.
Are my organs going to be permanently damaged, a la Victorian corset wearers?
Are there actually crescent shaped cuts in the top roll of my stomach?
Who arbitrarily decided what level/location was socially and aesthetically acceptable for breasts in the first place? Take me to them.
How the
and
Can anyone actually see me whimper with every deep breath?
Fortunately I had, at the last moment, baulked at leaving my beloved (and conveniently collapsible) soft cup nursing bra at home, and stuffed it into the bottom of my handbag.
By 11am I had caved.
Four minutes later I returned from the toilets to my desk in blissful, hip level, unfettered glory – and with a bulging handbag. I literally cannot describe the magnitude of my relief to you. It was like the
So the thing is, 2016 might actually get even shitter before it is mercifully over in five short weeks, for which I can only apologise. But I simply cannot take one for the team by subjecting myself to personal tit torture for the greater good. I’m no martyr.
And anyway, it occurs to me that Trump probably WANTS my boobs to be nice and high and on display, given his proclivities. In fact, now I think about it,
So frankly I’m not going to give him the bloody satisfaction.
#Freetheboobs! #Vivelesaggytits! #Downwiththissortofpersonalscaffolding.
That’ll show him.
In another three weeks maybe I’ll try and save/distract myself/the world
Oooo ankle boots….
Mumonthenetheredge
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