Our first meeting was not pleasant. I hated wearing it. It was complicated, uncomfortable and moreover something to be ashamed of.

I spent my teens hiding the fact that I needed one, worse, wore one. Long opaque slips, safety pins and higher necklines, anything to hide the culprit. The world around me agreed. Once got an earful from my landlady in college as a neighbour saw them hanging out to dry. I was nineteen when the scary incident happened. The neighbour and my landlady were traumatized by my carelessness and the sight of my hated companion hung out on a clothesline for the world to see.

I grew up, and with it, fortunately, my relationship with the strap. I could still spot one from a mile away, but now it was different. A swanky strap peeping out from a smart top on purpose, a strap at the end of a winning basketball game, an ill-fitting strap and the strap with pearlsthat I covet. A single strap, well a pair, if we are being stickler for tiny details, began a revolution in my mind and changed my life.

Now I am a mum and today is the day my daughter and I go shopping. She is a big girl now and needs one. So what do I tell my daughter? " Say hello to your new friend, the bra. Your body needs extra support and this one takes care of you just like the special shoes Papa wears to the gym!"