Hello Boobies! (Dad, if you are reading this, please tune out now)

Having never been the possessor of an ample bosom (only a modestly sufficient one) my first reaction on not being able to button up a favourite garment without the stretched and gaping effect was “Woo hoo!”. My next reaction after that what, “holy batman, must I now replace every bosom-related garment I own or risk flashing my extra womanly flesh all over the place?!” Having gone for three and a half weeks wearing the one bra that still fits (ambitiously purchased at a time I thought, nay hoped that I might be on the borderline of a C cup), and experimented to my peril with other ol’ favourites which are now severely overwhelmed by their expanded guests, I am facing up to the fact that I may have to go on a bit of an excursion seeking new and undoubtedly expensive bosomry equipment. Gah.

I feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland in that bit where she eats the mushroom and with her hand on her head tries to work out if she is growing or shrinking. For this, dear internets, is my key area of confusion – when do I know that they are going to stay the same size, or will they keep expanding onwards and outwards indefinitely, until something dramatic happens (I’m thinking either breastfeeding, weaning or an explosion)? Do they ever “settle” into a new “maternity” size, or am I to resign myself to strechy shapeless type things until halloumi is of school age?

Boobies, I thought I knew you! And now, while having happily surprised me, you have also upset the delicate balance of the universe which rests on the certainty of having the one bra size from age 15 onwards. My guess is that you have further surprises in store for me – both of the gratifying and disturbing kinds. Please let it be more of the former than the latter.

Ps. Yes I know this comes with the territory of being a mammal and all

PPS. For those who take a perverse pleasure/reassurance in my queasiness (you know who you are!), you will be delighted to know that I experienced what I hope will be known at "the most inglorious post-breakfast vomit known to womankind" the other morning. Let's just say I can no longer consider the prospect of what was once my favourite breakfast - oatflakes with milk & banana. urg.