Angels, Demons and Doreens - by Mrs Viv Davies

It took me three hours, two coffee breaks, three toilet trips and a serious conversation with myself to finally go into Marks and Spencer's and get myself measured properly for a bra. The self conversation went something like this...
'It's time girl, these boobs need proper hold ups'
'But you've got away with sport bras and those pull over the head bra tops for ages'
'Yes but there's no support and they're not very pretty'.
'No but and this is a big means being naked and I'm not a slim young thing anymore, in fact I never was'.
'Well the lady will have seen it all before'.
'Not my back boobs and wobbly bits she hasn't'.

Finally here I stand, feeling sick, scared stupid and wondering which one of the beautiful, slim young staff would have the delightful duty of witnessing my buxomness.

And then there she was, an angel.  A matronly woman who has probably been there, and really had seen it all, for a lifetime. Somehow I felt just a tad less nervous.

So I slip into the cubicle and slip off my top, and wait.

Doreen, that was my angel's name, discreetly joined me in the cubicle and proceeded to measure every square inch.....

The conversation that took place... 

Doreen 'My, you have beautiful skin'.
Me 'Thank you'.
Doreen 'Having a good bra will enhance your lovely curves'.
Me 'Thank you'.
Doreen 'We women deserve to feel beautiful because we are'.
Me through tears 'Thank you'.
Doreen discreetly left.

During each day, we are faced with a world that tries to tell us we aren't beautiful unless we fit an ideal...tosh! 

Listen to the Doreens.