I’m prone to being a tad over dramatic, but I don’t think I’m being over the top when I say there is little worse than an uncomfortable bra. Last week my female-Italian-colleague was banging on about the size of my jugs to which I responded – “it’s all lies! The padded bra works wonders.” To prove my point the next day I wore an unpadded one, IT WAS HELL. I hadn’t broken it in properly and this was its first all-day outing. I now realise after looking on several websites that I should have done a few warm-up outings to the shops or worn it when cooking dinner – but in reality who has time for that?!
All I got for my troubles was my colleague saying that yes, she could see the difference and (imagine this said in an Italian accent) “they look much more sad.” So for the rest of the day she called me Sad Boobs. I also had a face to match due to the constant pain in my cleavage. I felt it my duty to tell almost every female friend at work that I was wearing a bad bra. I got of sympathy then stories of first bras, best places to buy them, just general tit chat. This took up most of my day as I couldn’t concentrate on my work for longer than half an hour without having to go to the toilet and either unhook it for a minute or hoick it up and down.
The best part of my day was when I dashed home, yanked it off and refused to wear another one for the rest of the day. I wish I could channel my inner Charlie Dimmock and just go bra-free. If she can rock it on an outdoors show there must be hope for me in an office.