Its an age thing?…

In my head I am still 18, I still am not quite sure what I want to do with my life, I’m certain that I will be successful one day… Mr Bloody Perfect will suddenly appear, I will have numerous glamorous holidays in far flung places and I will retire, fulfilled and blissfully happy in some gorgeous cottage covered in wisteria and with a rescue dog, cat and Mr Bloody Perfect… there’s still time …. SMACK back to reality

What the hell is happening to me? According to the vast amount of literature I consume on a regular basis I am ‘peri-menopausal’, I’d like to call it, a bloody distraction and something that happens to other people. After all I am only 49 and one third… When did I appear to gain a chest that would look appropriate on the front of a ship in the Spanish armada? I used to be proud of my boobs, pert, not too big or small and with the added benefit of not being spaniels ears. So when my current bras had started to fight back and dig into my sides like a f…g hack saw, I decided it was time for a bra fitting……

Unaware of bra fitting etiquette, I stood there in my bulging bra as the lovely woman in M&S looked at my chest. Yes, “it’s definitely too small”, at this I pointed our that it was so small I actually had what appeared to be 4 boobs. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I also realised that my stomach had gained the appearance of very thick porridge. Now M&S, a quiet word, most women don’t scrutinise their naked/semi naked bodies too closely and in this light, I found bumps and lumps that I didn’t know I had, or could be medically possible…This is both disturbing and for M&S potentially loss making, as I wanted to get dressed and run to the food hall for a ‘Dine in for Two (all for myself) to get over the shock. Which I am sure isn’t as margin rich as flogging me a number of new bra’s.

However I had to wait for my new bra’s, so I was faced with staring at my ‘muffin top’ (who named it that? more of a blancmange over hang) and then finally what was handed to me can only be described as ‘old lady’ bra’s, built for comfort and support, certainly not built to attract Mr Bloody Perfect or to be worn with any semblance of a strappy top/sassy little number. Nope, these were designed to be accompanied by a twin set or a ‘nice’ blouse. So whilst I wrestled with the enormous hook and eyes (great for my failing eyesight), the hotness decided to descend. As I drew back the curtain to reveal my celibate bra, with a red sweaty face and porridge podge, I realised that this could be viewed as a mid life episode that should ‘only happen to other people’. The ‘lovely lady’ and I decided that despite the enormous cup size and industrial straps, that these were the best option. So now I am the proud owner of new bra’s that look like something a Catholic priest could wear on his head… but at least its preventing the spaniels ears…. for now.