Alright Sheridan Jobbins, I finally GET it. Today, for the first time in a while, I bought a new bra. Not a display bra for a gorgeous evening dress however, but an emergency everyday bra.

The sudden drop in temperature today had me striding into the local shops asking to be directed to the most comfortable warm clothing that isn’t actually a track suit. I had put on some decent clothing and a bit of makeup before heading out, but not until trying on the potential purchases did I actually LOOK at myself in a full length mirror clothed over my everyday underwear. Aaargh! I had been vaguely aware that the bras weren’t getting younger any faster than I was, but it was painfully evident that immediate action was required.

Now I don’t want to lead you on, so let me say straight up to anyone looking for titillation, might I direct you towards Episode 8 of the excellent Hell’s Hospital series by theseustoo. It turns out that for us ladies of a certain age there is nothing even remotely sexy about an emergency everyday bra.

I presented myself to the lady behind the nearest lingerie counter and, when I had caught my breath enough to be able to speak, told her that I thought I might need a bit of assistance. She responded cheerily enough with something about new models coming in all the time. I let her know that I didn’t want anything with underwiring because it sticks into me. She nodded but her face fell slightly. It might have been my imagination but it seemed that so, in sympathy, did my breasts. Then I told her I thought I’d be a C cup size. She shook her head decisively and told me that I’d be closer to a double D. She accompanied her explanation about the effects of time with some hand waving about the region of her own chest. Difficult to follow, but the final gesture was firmly and unmistakably in the downwards direction.

On the way to the change rooms she picked out a selection of bras that looked like something my grandmothers would wear. Difficult to understand why they looked like that, since I’ve never seen my grandmothers in their underwear. I think the idea must come from seeing other women in the change rooms at the swimming pool.

The very first bra made me look like Madonna. But not in a good way. I had a twin set of cones that nonetheless managed to have lumpy bits and put my nipples proudly on display through the T-shirt. Same problem with the next one. We decided that the nipples were sitting in the wrong place. Lift your breast in, she said. No, just LIFT straight up. You are pushing to the side like your mother taught you, but these days bras are made differently.

Three bras later things weren’t looking any better so we decided to try something different.

Now until I tried on a seamless bra, I hadn’t realised that cones have an antonym, or whatever you call the opposite of a shape. The shape antonym of cone is fried egg. The basic action of a seamless bra is to squash and flatten. That creates the white. The yolk part comes from the basic breast shape enhanced by the bras itself, particularly when the cup size is too small.

Anyway it was a quarter hour before closing and I wasn’t walking out in the same bra in which I had slunk in. We found a seamless bra with an inadvertent lifting side-effect, and the bonus was that, contrary to the usual case, the price was right. I’ve just checked it out in the home mirror and it is at least good enough to go out bra shopping again when I’ve recovered from the experience. Hopefully that will be before this one needs replacing as urgently as the one I left in today.