In my head, I’m a size 6 svelte, toned and tanned beauty with an ‘ample’ bosom.
In reality, the mirror tells the truth that I’m a size 14 with a baby belly, stretchmarks and tits that have their own postcode.
I look on at the lovely rows of teeny tiny lacy sexy bras in M&S and can only dream. It’s never going to happen. I shall be wearing my chest scaffolding with horrific grandma wide straps for the rest of my days.
Here’s what happens when you try squeeze a 32K bust into a very pretty 32A bra.
Who the heck am I kidding?! Even four of these sewn together wouldn’t support my weapons of mass distraction.