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How many bras does it take to hold up two breasts?

January 2, 2013


(Photo: Mark Harris, The Times Magazine)

Just before Christmas I was reading the Sunday Times Magazine and found myself both relieved and dismayed in equal measure. I was reading the article by Caitlin Moran, the one where she interviews Nigella Lawson after tweeting that she wanted to put her face between the chef’s bum checks. Oh, and in a stroke of genius her editor makes them dress up as each other. Simple, yet surprisingly hilarious.

Anyway, this was not why I was relieved and dismayed in equal measure. In the interview Nigella revealed that when she tried to take up running to keep fit she had to wear two bras. She said this made her feel “rather corseted”. Tell me about it, sister. I have to do the same and it is as if I’m wearing a bulletproof vest. In my mind’s eye I liken myself to Lara Croft. In reality it’s more like Dawn French in wetsuit.

For this reason, Nigella has resorted to walking.

Now, it is a relief to know that there is someone else out there doing exactly the same thing as me. I don’t often admit to people that my 32H breasts are so buxom that one sports bra isn’t enough. My friends are visibly shocked that a bra with straps two inches thick and four hooks wide is not supportive enough. Thankfully, I have found a kindred spirit in Nigella. I can now watch her big (bacon) baps with a newfound understanding.

But then I was also dismayed. If Nigella, the woman who goes to the extreme of wearing a burka in the swimming pool to prevent sunburn, can’t find something sturdy enough to support her bosom then what hope is there for the rest of us? I have three sports bras (Bravissimo and M&S), none of which can do the job alone. I assumed that I was looking in the wrong place but now I fear there are actually no bras that will work.

Ladies, please help me. Does anyone know of a bra shop that can save my Cooper’s ligaments from sagging to the floor by which time all will be lost?

Ps. I wanted to add this snippet from the interview just because it made me laugh.

“I’ve done your sandwich as I do my children’s,” Nigella says, reappearing with a bacon sandwich she has made with calm, tong-wielding efficiency. “White bread, dipped in the bacon fat.”

As a non-religious person, being given a dripping, filthy bacon sandwich by Nigella Lawson is the nearest I have ever come to receiving some kind of sacrament or absolution. I try to work out which is more beautiful – this bacon sandwich or Nigella’s face. I literally can’t decide.


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