Busted

I’ve been living in the same two bras for months now.

I lie.

They’re not actually bras, but Sweaty Betty swimming tops I bought in one of their excellent sales. Although I seem to own a bra in every size – from pre-pregnancy mole hills to FHM style milk boobs – none of them fit my shrunken and deflated attempts at breasts. These fit because they’re more like the crops tops I wore before I even had mole hills.

My husband has noticed, though he doesn’t believe there are two identical tops in rotation, and thinks I’m even more minging than I am. He keeps harassing me to go bra shopping. But I can’t bring myself to go bra shopping, because I’m in denial. I’m waiting for them to return to normal. They were small but at least they fit the skin surrounding them. They do eventually go back, right?

However, I discovered I can feel better about my questionable hygiene while I wait for the miraculous day to come.

I was given the Ladybird ‘How it works’ book called ‘The Mum’ for my birthday. It’s hilarious. I read it in one swoop, stood in the kitchen mid tidy up, then handed it to my husband, who laughed through it too.

We both laughed harder at the same point: ‘Bella’s mum wonders what the record is for the number of days someone has worn the same bra.’

I’m not alone!

I reckon I’m on 8 days. And I no longer need to feel a slight tinge of shame. I hadn’t realised, I’m actually in a competition, and so far, I think I’m nailing it.

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