Grasp the clasp: Sizing up the bra

Puberty sucks on many levels. Thank goodness my mother was around for bra shopping. Since I've been on my own I've taken less care.

Rea's Story

Since my pregnancy I've been in denial, hoping my 32B cup size would miraculously return.

I recently learned that women often don't know the shape of their breasts - yes, they come in different shapes, not just sizes - and that's why we often end up buying the wrong fit.

I recently went for a bra fitting, Vanessa Kgwedi at Woolworths Rosebank, Johannesburg, took me on a journey to find the perfect fit.

Kgwedi put a measuring tape around my chest to determine my size. When she told me I was "well-structured", I wasn't sure what she meant. "Most of the time women show cleavage unintentionally because they're wearing the wrong bra shape," she said.

Kqwedi offered me three bras in different shapes. One of them was true love. I hadn't felt that sexy since becoming a mother. The bra wasn't tight and everything lay where it was supposed to.

Kgwedi says bra-fitting helps women buy the right bra, preventing skin damage from underwires and even cancer.

Kqwedi's tips

• Women with pear-shaped breasts should wear plunge-cup bras.
• Women with fuller breasts should wear balconette bras so that the bra covers the breasts more fully and gives more support.
• Cancer survivors should wear cotton bras only.
• Wear a sports bra when you gym because the chest needs to be flexible.

Yolisa's Story

For decades, chest hammocks, otherwise known as bras, have terrorised adolescent boys and grown men. Many a would-be stallion is flummoxed by the vagaries of girth, cup sizes and clasps.

A thoroughly unscientific study among friends revealed that the male mind can scarcely wrap itself around the full range of bra sizes. Ask a man about a boulder-holder bigger than a DD and watch the smoke pour out of his ears as his mind does furious visual mathematics.

Size matters little, however. The clasp is the enemy. That small piece of metal shackling a pair of glorious orbs is the work of Satan. Unlocking it requires a baffling sequence of pulls, tugs and caresses that must be done blindfolded.

The great can do it one-handed, and for them a special place has been set aside in paradise. The rest of us are doomed to awkwardness.

Perhaps the next bold leap in bra education should be designed not for the wearer, but the remover: La Senza-sponsored unclasping sessions would not only prove wildly popular but would be of great benefit to all involved.