[AD info: this post contains an affiliate link. This is not a paid-for post and I bought the bra myself.]

I posted a photo on Instagram the other day in which my boobs were quite – how can I put this" – apparent. Perky. Fulsome. Now I don’t want you to worry; I’m not about to go down some personality side-road where I put up lots of pictures of myself in thong-back bikinis, or talk about how awesome coconut water is, or make daily humble-brags about how incredible I think my body is. This blog isn’t about to turn into a breast-fest: I just wanted to tell you about a bra I bought.

The most unlikely of bras, actually, because I rarely veer away from moulded-cup t-shirt offerings these days and it’s not often I require something more niche. But I was off to a black tie ball and the dress that has taken me three years to squeeze back into (Issa, circa 2015, hugely expensive, only wore it once then got pregnant again) seemed to look a little lacklustre in the frontage department when I tried it on. Where before there had been boob, there suddenly was none. (Actually when I wore it the first time I was already pregnant with Ted, by about a day, and still breastfeeding Angelica. I remember wearing weird nipple shield things and cutting up tiny bits of panty-liner to stick inside in case my boobs leaked!) So yes, the boobs were nowhere to be seen when I tried the gown on a couple of weeks ago. I mean they were there, somewhere, just not...