Thursday, 4 April 2013


Due to my past few posts being a little melancholy I have decided to change direction and go for something a little more uplifting :) Boobs.
Unlike my Mother, my Sister or Dolly Parton I was never blessed with an ample bosom. I was a late developer and yearned for the day I had a chest! When all the girl at school were having their bra straps pinged by the boys there I was still in my ladybird vest.......
I practised in the privacy of my room stuffing Mums bras with loo roll or socks and surveying my profile in the mirror, just to see what if?  Alongside my Adam Ant make-up practice I'm sure I was becoming more appealing to the opposite sex on a daily basis.
Then the day came....  I had started to blossom slightly. OK they were more like a couple of gnat bites than budding breasts but we all had to start somewhere.
I was allowed my very first trainer bra (actually was my elder Sisters cast off.)  I can remember it well. White  (slightly greying from a mixed wash) with red polka dots, fraying elastic back and bent hook and eye fastening!! Should have kept it, would have been vintage now. 
This begs a question. why the hell are they called training bras? What were my Boobies in training for? They were pretty good at standing up on their own, was there something exciting awaiting these Boobs of mine that I wasn't ready to be exposed to yet?
I do wish I had taken a Booby photo a day, imagine that on fast forward :)

So back to Bras. I love Bras. I don't think my Husband understands the importance of having so many bras, especially now they have retired and come out of training.
There's Bras for T-shirts, seam free of course, Bras to push them up and separate them, ones that give you a uni -boob or a cleavage that to be honest can quite often resemble my arse, my knees or the crease in my elbow. (I dare you to take a photo without laughing.) There's blow up Bras, Gel Bras, peep hole Bras (never had One) sports Bras, under wired, no wires, bedroom bras, balconette, halterneck, strapless, the list goes on and on.
Of course you need the pants to match the Bra, along with the handbag and shoes. God forbid you were in an accident and were caught wearing underwear that didn't match!

As I came out of my teens I am pleased to say my Boobs did catch up and we have had an interesting time together. Being pregnant is like having an instant boob job. After having my Son they were just there, 2 massive bowling balls stuck to my chest which leaked like a bloody dripping tap and I had to carry down the stairs.
It suddenly all clicked into place; this was the training the Bra was for!! Ouch.
From then on it was a downward spiral. I was transported to my childhood days, back in front of the mirror, surveying my womanly Bosom. This time it wasn't loo roll, it was tit tape, just to see what I would look like with an uplift.  Hilarious.
My Boobs have given my child comfort, a place to rest a weary head, my Husband pleasure ;)

Boobs, Tits, Breasts, Jugs, Knockers, whatever you want to call them, they're all mine, and I love them.

Girlie's, a little note also to check your boobies


  1. Haha!! I love this post & love my boobs too :)x

  2. This was a really cute post. I never got the generous boobs I wanted, but now that I run I am kind of glad because it might be painful. (?) I look back on the pictures of myself at sixteen and I think what a beautiful body I had but I certainly did not think so at the time. I had an eating disorder which I recovered from only to be sacked with a case of OCD. I am content with my body now but work on my mind all the time. LOL

    1. Loving your recovery but sorry to hear of your OCD :( seriously as you get older you be pleased your boobs aren't blessed!


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