Having big boobs can sometimes be a blessing and a curse. Take for example the fact that you can store things in your bra; handy when it allows you to venture out without a purse, tricky when your bra is so cavernous that it can potentially home the Holy Grail Knight from Indiana Jones for thousands of years without you ever finding out.
Here are my top four things I have lost – and eventually found – in my bra:
- My door key
As a teenager, I thought it was sacrilege to go on a night out with a coat and a bag…or much in the way of a skirt. On the few occasions when I went back to my parents’ house instead of crashing at a mates’ after a night out, I would keep a door key in my bra for safe keeping. One night when I rocked up to my front door after many (whispers embarrassingly) ‘snakebite and blacks’, I tried in vain for literally an hour to find the key in my bra, to no avail. I assumed it must have flung out during some vigorous dancing to Blu Cantrell. I slumped on the doorstep, preferring to sleep there for the night than wake my parents and endure a lecture. Luckily, my mum came downstairs and opened the door for me. It turns out that my attempts not to wake my parents were futile. I was wailing, ‘Where’s my fucking keeeeey? This bra is buuuuullshiiiiit!’ for a straight hour whilst I fumbled in my bra. Finally, upon reaching my bedroom, I flung all my clothes on the floor and something sharp hit my foot. It was the bloody key. With a bra the size of a circus tent, there was just no finding that baby.
- Tube ticket
On another night out in London, I decided to keep my tube ticket in my bra so that in my drunken state I wouldn’t forget what I’d done with it. Once I reached the barriers at the tube station, I reached into my bra to retrieve the ticket. What came out was a soggy, limp piece of paper that had absorbed an inordinate amount of boob-sweat from the club. It wouldn’t scan. I had to find a guard and ask him to let me through. When he took my ticket to check it, he said ‘did you drop this in a puddle or something?’. I was too mortified to tell him his hand was wet with my tit-perspiration.
- Thankfully, not a dodgy mole
One evening when I was getting undressed to get in the shower, I caught a glimpse of a strange mole on the side of my boob. My heart was thudding in my chest as I slowly raised my hand to the mole to inspect it. The worry was thankfully short-lived – it was the remnant of a Rice Krispy bun I had consumed roughly five hours earlier and it had been warming in my bra all afternoon. And yes, I know what you’re wondering. I did eat it. I’m gross and greedy.
- Roughly £7.40 in loose change
I once thought it would be sexy and or cool to keep a crisp £10 note in my bra to pay for a drink at a bar. I assumed after pulling this little stunt, it would be the last drink I bought myself that night. I was right. But what I hadn’t considered is where I would keep the remaining change. I spent the rest of the night dancing and jangling like a piggy money box. And when I finally got home and collapsed in bed, I had tiny imprints of the Queen’s face all over my tits. Monarch-y mammaries are not a good look. Thank God I was alone.