If you have boobs then you should read the following community service announcement.

What I have to write about is very serious and it may apply to you, yes you. Now look down and check out your bazookas. Are you still looking, do you have to look way down to your waist? Are they just hanging there, flowing freely in your saggy bra, like massive, swinging pendulums? Has your bra got threads hanging off it? Is it discoloured? Did you watch the Oprah episode about ill-fitting bras and think to yourself: “I better get around to getting a new bra soon”? Well hello, that show was on years ago. Is it possible your bra no longer performs its main purpose of holding up your melons and instead just covers your nipples to stop your headlights from blinding people? Well, you are not alone. That was me.

Once I started having babies I stopped checking my bra size. I made do with what I had. My bras were split into two categories; pre-baby and maternity. A few months after my second child was born, my husband, kids and I went to Sydney to catch up with family. My cousin and I had popped out to “run some errands” (aka peruse clothes stores and buy stuff). We had just been in a lingerie store, she’d added to her collection and I’d bought my eldest child some pajamas. As we strolled back to our holiday home, confident, relaxed and happy, my cousin very kindly suggested that perhaps I should head back to the lingerie store and get myself fitted for a new bra. I looked down at my chumbawumbas and noticed they were swinging in the breeze. It was a timely piece of advice. I rushed back excitedly and grabbed my husband’s visa card. “Don’t worry it’ll be the best investment you’ll ever make,” I yelled as a skidded out the door. And thus, my love affair with over-priced pieces of material began.

Half an hour later, after having my jugs prodded, pulled-at and measured I emerged from the shop poorer, yet perkier. I strutted down the street with a huge grin on my face. I couldn’t stop looking down at my airbags; they were up and out. Not only was I a whole body size smaller than I thought, but I was two cup-sizes larger. I’d outgrown my membership of “The Itty, Bitty, Titty Club” years ago, but had failed to notice. I was now the owner of huge hooters. I was now officially a member of “The Over-the-Shoulder, Bolder Holders’ Club”. Yay, for me. I’ve since learnt by accentuating my jugs, it helps balance out my massive arse and takes the attention away from my post-baby, jelly belly.

I was telling a friend recently how I was using my love of lingerie to get through my latest weight battle and how once I’d finished breast feeding Baby 3 I’d be heading straight to my closest store to get myself fitted for new bras. And I told her my saggy breasts story. She looked down at her own Brad Pitts and embarrassingly slid across her shirt to reveal her bra strap. And there was the tell tale maternity bra. She’d stopped breastfeeding over a year ago! “I must get myself to the bra store too,” she laughed.

Isn’t it crazy? We spend so much time looking after the needs of others that we always put ourselves last on the list. Bras tend to be thought of a luxury item, but they are a necessary part of life, particularly if you can rest your chesticles on the dining table while eating dinner or like me, you’ve graduated from holding a pencil under your wopbobaloobops to a whole pencil case and a can of coke (in case you get thirsty). Whether you have bee-stings or David and Goliaths’, you wear a bra everyday, so hop to it and treat yourself this Xmas to a professional bra fitting and new bra. You don’t need to spend a fortune, just get one that fits you properly. You’ll be amazed at how much happier you’ll feel when your puppies are securely fastened to your chest and not nipping at your heels.

Are you still hanging onto old bras?