Why is it So Hard to Buy a Bra? (and other stories)

5 minute read

Men often laugh at the amount of extra wardrobe space we require but they don't need entire collections of clothes for different times of the month. I have late-cycle bras, mid-cycle jeans, and an entire chest of drawers of ‘don't mess with me’ sweats. I’ve been trying to buy a bra for about four months. I think I’ve finally settled on one that I like - and miraculously, fits! I’ve bought and returned about seven different ones, which in hindsight doesn’t seem that bad for bra buying. Men would never understand. They settle on a style of boxer at about 16 and are give six pairs every year for Christmas and their birthday which they wear until they fall apart or December comes round again. Imagine the simplicity of their lives?

I had some bras I loved but when I moved house in 2019 I did some sorting. I threw some out – they were grey, frayed, and broken. Then I divided the rest up into categories. No longer fit but may fit in the future bras; weekend away without the kids bras; comfy but never to be seen by human eyes bras; sentimental bras I cannot part with. There was a ceremonial burning of the maternity bras!

I realised that I wasn’t left with any day-to-day bras and so with fear, trepidation, and some annoyance I set about trying to find one that would work.

My breasts have changed a lot. They were my pride and joy but two kids in 20 months, breastfeeding, near-daily pandemic wine, and age have meant that they are no longer the joyously perky, pretty boobs of my 30s and are, like me, a little deflated.

I don’t really know these boobs yet, I haven’t made friends with them. I loved their predecessors and so I’m a bit cagey around them, a little standoffish. But I’ve come to accept that they’re here to stay and I may as well give them a comfortable home.

It’s not just my breasts that have changed though. I have a post section pooch that I think will be with me forever, my bum is lower than it was, my arms softer. I don’t really mind any of this. Gravity is doing its job and really, it’s a privilege to be here to witness its wondrous pull and I was absolutely complicit in the softening and rounding of myself consuming delicious pasta and weekly slices of cheesecake (FYI the vanilla cheesecake recipe on BBC GoodFood will not let you down).

But as I emerge from my Covid cocoon and attempt to dress again I’ve been assessing my wardrobe. It’s housed between three rooms because there isn’t enough space in my own. My husband finds this hilarious but I see now, with eyes that are looking at my clothes properly for the first time in a year and a half, that there is a real reason, I’m not just a hoarder. There are clothes for different seasons, sure, but also for different times in the month. Jeans that only fit pre-ovulation, don’t mess with me sweatpants that signal a need for comfort and the delivery of chocolate with a Nurofen chaser, sexy dresses that are grabbed a couple of times a year when the moon is high and the women gather.

Men’s wardrobes don’t know the pressure of bloating, of sensitivity, of the impact of mood. They rarely reach for something only to realise that though it fit yesterday but won’t even begin to close today.

Of course, now it’s the time of the year where certain areas of women’s media and advertising are beginning to talk about summer bodies. 10 years ago they would scream about diets for holidays and losing your winter weight. They are more subtle now and so more insidious.

I’d like to see an end to fitspo which is just diet culture dressed up in a wellness overcoat, and BMI can absolutely get in the sea.

What we should all be talking about now is the normality of our fluctuating figures and the impact our cycles have on our shape, digestion and energy. How your shape shifts as you go through each stage of womanhood. The ebb and flow of life reflected in our bellies and thighs and bones.

There is a movement in the world of exercise that looks at the impact of our cycle on our workouts. It’s fascinating. You can track your period and match energy levels to it so that you optimise what you’re doing. The first time I saw it, it was like a cartoon lightbulb appeared above my head. Of course, this works, it makes perfect sense. Why would you try to do the same exercise each and every week when your body changes so profoundly over the course of a month. Yes, you can go hell for leather on day 10-18, work with your own bodyweight until day 28, enjoy pilates and yoga while you bleed and cramp, or just sit on the couch if that’s all your able for before you feel your energy rise up and you can start again.

This is why we need women in decision-making everywhere. Fitness for women can be a beautiful thing. Childcare can be sorted out. Perimenopause can be properly researched, and wardrobes can be designed to accommodate women’s actual needs (long and short hanging space, drawer dividers, and space for more than three pairs of shoes please).

The bra I settled on is slightly padded to make up for my new lack of bounce, is a plunge style so I can manoeuvre my bosoms into a pleasing cleavage and is non-wired because life is too short to be suddenly stabbed in the armpit by what I can only assume is an instrument of torture of a man’s design. It may not be the right bra for you, but it’s the right one for me and it only took me four months to find.

Jennifer Stevens, June 2021