I remember my first bra vividly. It was a white cotton number that didn't actually have a proper clasp, retrospectively more of a strappy crop top than an actual proper brassiere; when I developed little bosoms of my own I was mortified when my mum took me along to Contessa (remember them?) for a fitting, but walking out with a properly fitted and supportive piece of underwear made me feel a million times better - like a woman in the making. As a teenager I was very much aware of my oversized boobs and the fact I had far more going on around the breasticle area than most of my friends, and spent most of Year 10 hoping these growing lumps didn't fall out and flash my resistant materials teacher. I remember progressing up to a maroon satin number I bought from ASDA when I got my first boyfriend, which looked great if I stood still or was wearing a tight dress but did little in the way of actually supporting my chest; that was quickly replaced by floral structured (and very uncomfortable) pieces from La Senza that I couldn't wait to take off when I got home, but because that's where everyone else shopped I just kind of went along with it.
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