As I drop another item on to the bedroom floor, my daughter, Sophie, fixes me with a quizzical look. We’re sorting through my cupboards, so I can have a clear-out and she can assess if there’s anything worth selling online.
Sophie’s clearly perplexed by the sheer volume of items being discarded. ‘You really want to get rid of all of these things?’ she muses with disbelief, as she holds up a size ten lilac-coloured number from Reiss which I bought several years ago. Memorably (for me, anyway), I wore it for my inaugural appearance on Question Time.
It’s not the only outfit to be jettisoned during this ruthless cull — from the royal blue Max Mara dress, accessorised with a gilt star-shaped belt, that I wore to a family wedding, to a yellow button-down frock sprigged with white roses and which, though only a few years old, would still see me through plenty of summer parties.
It’s even time to say goodbye to Diane von Furstenberg — namely, a navy checked DVF shirt dress — despite the fact it was a gift from my husband Martin.
Now don’t get me started on my tops. I’m particularly sorry to see a powder blue sweater hit the decks, since it’s my favourite colour.
In short, this has been a full-scale blitz. Why? Put simply, my expanding midlife bust no longer fits into them.
You see, in the past five years, my bra size has increased from a neat C cup to a rather unwelcome E, even though my hips and waist have remained unchanged.
Cramming myself into these outfits may put anyone close in mortal danger from a stray button flying into their eye.
Having a booming, Jessica Rabbit-style bosom may serve Kim Kardashian well, but I look a little too close to Les Dawson dressed as a woman, complete with a chest that you could serve supper from.
Fortunately, for my own sanity, I’m not the only one. Plenty of women testified that having once been in proportion, they’re hitting their late 40s and suddenly finding themselves forced to give up their wisps of lingerie for bras that can double as hammocks.
A recent study revealed that one in five women experienced an increase in breast size after menopause. Yes, breasts do change with The Change.
When oestrogen levels drop, breast tissue becomes less dense and more fatty. This is compounded by the fact breasts are more sensitive to weight gain as we get older, since dormant milk ducts shrink and are replaced by fat.
Over the past five years, Angela Epstein says her bra size has increased from a C cup to an E, even though her hips and waist have remained unchanged
Angela before she went through the menopause and got her ‘mid-life’ chest
Angela poses in a pink dress while on holiday in the Greek countryside
If that’s not challenging enough, bigger midlife busts are more prone to sagging as the skin loses elasticity and sag-preventing collagen rapidly diminishes.
This droopiness even has a medical name. Hello, breast ptosis! Apparently, a woman with heavy breasts may see her nipples drop by four inches. Yes, you read that correctly. If this isn’t depressing enough, breast fat is extremely resistant to diet and exercise: once it’s there, it ain’t budging. Or at the very least it’s very hard to get rid of.
All of this goes some way to explaining why many fifty-something women start storing fat up top when they haven’t before.
As far as I’m concerned, suddenly sprouting a heaving cleavage at my life stage comes with serious challenges. In a younger woman it may well be seen as sexy, but I just look matronly.
One good friend, who now has a rather magnificent embonpoint, really struggles with the unwanted attention it brings. ‘I’m 54 and I don’t want to find that people are looking at my boobs because they’re just so ‘out there’. It’s awful.’
And now that summer’s here, the situation is only more embarrassing since rising temperatures mean all those classic camouflaging sweaters or jackets have to be abandoned.
Just the other day, I was looking at some pictures from a blissful trip to Greece. The countryside looks exquisite against a peerless blue sky. Yet all I could see was the ghost of Carry On star Hattie Jacques as I posed for the camera in my pink T-shirt dress.
Even if I try to ignore my hefty midlife chest I’m reminded of it by seeing, at a recent wedding, an equally bouncy friend.
My pal, who’s not the look-at-me type, was wearing a gorgeous dress with pleated skirt and flattering sculpted arms. Unfortunately, from the waist up, the view was inescapably Himalayan. Even I couldn’t help but stare.
So what am I going to do about it? Certainly, it’s a costly situation since good supportive bras aren’t cheap. I’ve just splashed out nearly £100 at a specialist shop after repeatedly asking the sales assistant for anything which could hold me.
Her response: ‘We can give you a better shape, but size is size.’ Nice.
So I’ve decided that the only way forward is to distract and compromise. I’m not considering surgery. This is not a judgement on others, but I could never voluntarily go under the knife.
(Plenty do, though. According to the British Association of Aesthetic Plastic Surgeons, procedures to decrease size now make up 40 per cent of all breast operations, up by more than a quarter in three years.)
Otherwise, there are exercises that focus on strengthening the chest and back muscles. This will, rather than reduce size, help to improve posture, provide better support for the breasts, and alleviate any discomfort.
Of course, I could do as fashion designer Amanda Wakeley recommends and embrace my curves. One top style tip: opt for scoop or V-necks, showing more of the neck and elongating your proportion. ‘Emphasise those curves, don’t hide them,’ says Amanda. ‘Most importantly, enjoy your assets with confidence!’
So, I revisit the heap of discarded clothes on the floor, before finally handing them over to my daughter for her online sale.
Time to glory in my assets? My courage fails me. I decide I’d rather accept the new reality of my midlife chest and go for flowing tops and baggy shirts. I figure that I can still achieve groomed and trendy without looking like a tattoo on a sailor’s arm.
Let’s hope all those buyers on Vinted or eBay enjoy the sale and cherish my once prized purchases — while they still can. No booby prizes allowed.
A version of this article was originally published by the Mail on July 15
