Bra fittings; We're told we should go for them, but how many of us actually do?

Yet, I did reach a breaking point when I realised I only had one bra left that semi-fit and even then I was dealing with a classic case of muffin boob - Less than ideal.

So after building up the courage one night (after a glass of wine) I bit the bullet and booked myself in for a fitting the next day at my nearest Marks & Spencer.

Was I nervous walking in? Of course. I didn't even know who would be seeing me standing there in my current, very poorly fitting bra and more importantly if their hands were cold.

It had been about four years since my last fitting, my mother used to refuse to buy me a bra unless I got fitted, but from the age of 18 to 22, I believed that I knew better.

Shockingly enough, I most definitely didn't. That's probably the reason why they recommend going for a fitting every year.

Firstly when I entered the room, the lady who would be helping me told me her name and guided me behind a curtain where I could take off my top.

As I stood there in my much too small 34 C-sized number, the lady asked if was I ready before she entered and again asked for my permission before she took my measurement.

It turns out that, like in most aspects of my life, I had greatly underestimated myself and I am in fact a 40 DD, quite a bit of a difference from what I had assumed.

With a few simple questions about style, colour and fit asked, off she went and brought back three different options "to start with".

I didn't even realise there were more than two to choose from.

I was looking for an everyday bra - a nude, t-shirt style that could be worn under almost everything and, of course, was comfortable.

With a variety of options in front of me, I began trying them on with the help of my very own fitter who pulled and tugged until I was belted in.

As it turns out this buckling and latching created the support I was in desperate need of, though a lot more snug than what I was used to, it wasn't uncomfortable.

Excuse the pun but a weight was lifted off my chest in the literal sense. I went from standing like The Hunchback of Notre Dame to walking tall, well as tall as you can when you're 5'1"..

I had actual cleavage and somehow it looked like I had lost weight, probably because my boobs where were they were intended to be.

Needless to say, I walked out with six new bras - in fairness they came in three packs - and a few more inches of height.

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