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Friday, 4 January 2013

Hanging around bras… Yes, that’s right, it’s not a typo.

04 January 2013 - How predictable am I? I got up and decided it was time to change the desktop image on my laptop, so I changed it from a picture of the Italian sex-god Tiziano Ferro to a picture of the Italian sex-god Tiziano Ferro. (Who’d believe I’m no longer in school, and I’m bloody 51?)


Before Christmas, on a shopping trip I found myself waiting for ‘me Dutch’ as he paid at the till of a well-known high street, budget clothing emporium. As he queued I discovered I was standing in the bra section. Now the sum total of my brassier experience has been fumbling as a teen with B*****t F****’s* fastening at a youth club disco and wearing an oversized one during pantomime at various venues up and down the UK.                                      * name disguised to protect the innocent.

So I’m standing surrounded by ladies intimate apparel and began to peruse what was on display. There were lacy bras complete with gel side fillets to emphasise the cleavage; giving less endowed girls that Holly Willoughbooby look I guess. There was a selection of bras that came with under-cup gel to lift the bosom and even some with gel-cups to give the illusion of a bigger breast. At £4.99, much cheaper than surgery.

It was only when I’d spent several minutes moving from rack to rack, (no pun intended) that I noticed the sales assistant watching me. I nodded and smiled just CAM00018as ‘me Dutch’ exited the payment line and as I walked away she gave me a look that told me she didn’t think I was a pervert.

It was that knowing look of someone convinced that I was a cross-dresser.

If I was a transvestite I think I’d call myself Olivia and I’d wear brassieres like this padded purple one.

I’m always willing to make an impact.


Have a good weekend – see you all on Monday

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