Author: Harriet
Blog: Where is Harriet?
Date: 1 April
Every girl knows how important good underwear is. It supports you, helps your clothes look better on you, and slows the gradual southern descent of all the bits you'd rather remained perky thank you very much! But what I think can never be stressed enough is the importance of beautiful undergarments. I should warn you I am that girl who doesn't have a problem talking loudly over dinner about underwear and underbits, while all her friends try desperately to shut her up, so if you don't want to read about That Sort of Thing please skip over this post!
Let me tell you a tale (based on a true story yo!) of three young princesses and how they came to the realisation that beautiful underwear was in fact the secret to everlasting youth, health and happiness. Their names are not important, but suffice to say one of them was called Harriet.
These three princesses realised at a young age that they were different to most of the other princesses in their class. While many of the other princesses were slim, pretty and flat-chested sort of girls, our three princesses found themselves developing into young women faster than most. While all the other girls wore pretty, girly crop-tops, our girls were racing through the A, B and even C cups before entering the land of the DD – G cup.
Now at this time in your life the changes your body is going through are embarrassing enough, but when you have big bazongas, everything was a whole lot worse. In those olden days of yore (for this was many many years ago, and in a land far far away) the larger chested girl was not well catered for, and these three princesses cringed every time they had to get unchanged for PE, because who really wants to do PE anyway, and even worse when the only thing available to keep everything under control looks like something your granny would wear, if she was a particularly unfashionable granny.
And so the years went by, and the three princesses grew to be close friends, but although they put on a brave face on things each secretly sighed a small sigh, and resigned themselves to the boringest of black, the blandest of beige and simply the worst bras known to womankind.
But because the princesses were good (mostly), well behaved (almost all of the time) and sweet tempered (who am I kidding!) young women it seemed about time they had some good fortune. Now everyone knows that princesses are looked after by benevolent fairies as they grow up, and these three were no different. One day as they were shopping (a pastime princesses are particularly good at) their guardian fairy appeared out of nowhere and cried 'halt!' This fairy was everything you expect from a fairy – beautiful, kind, generous and wise, and on top of all that she had the biggest pair of knockers the three princesses had ever seen.
'Cast aside your grey, your beige, your granny bras! Come with me and I will show you that there *is* a better way!' and so, curious, the three princesses followed her and she led them into a magical kingdom, full of bras of all different sizes, patterns and colours and the girls marvelled, and wondered why it had taken them so long to get here, when Covent Garden really wasn't that far on the tube, for this magical land was Bravissimo, and the treasures here were greater than anything any of the princesses had ever seen before.
And so, shopped out and happy the girls went to ye olde tavern, to meet with other, less well endowed princesses and share with them their good fortune. Spying their amiable flat chested companions they gave a shout, and over come by the excitement of it all one princess wanted nothing more than to share her happiness with the world. She took from her bag a bra of the highest quality covered in a colourful pink pattern of handbags and shoes and cried out 'Look! Look at my beautiful bra!' And her companions were amazed, and pleased too, for they had for many years enjoyed the happiness brought to them by pretty underthings from such places as LaSenza, which did not at that time cater for a larger bust, and wanted nothing more than for their more generously endowed friends to share in that joy.
And eventually they did manage to persuade the princess to put her bra back in her bag (for even princesses can be arrested for breach of the peace) and they retired to the tavern, to plot how best to bring the message that good support need not be boring to their people.
And that folks, is a true story. Even the bit where my friend ran down the road waving her bra above her head. Watch this space for my ideas on how to pretty-up your undies drawer coming up in part two!
