Go on...Buy the bra!

Why every woman deserves a little decadence, especially after everything she’s carried.

There’s something deeply humbling about standing half-naked under fluorescent lighting while a woman with a measuring tape gently informs you that you’ve been wearing the wrong bra size for… approximately a decade.

Possibly two.

And honestly? Fair enough.

Because somewhere between pregnancies, school runs, careers, heartbreaks, marriages, divorces, stress, menopause, weight gain, weight loss, and the general Olympic sport of being a woman, our bodies change. Constantly.

Breasts especially.

They soften. Shift. Drop. Expand. Deflate. Become fuller. Become smaller. Become wonderfully, beautifully lived in.

Yet so many of us are still clinging onto the same sad nude T-shirt bra we bought during the Obama administration.

Recently, I wandered into a beautiful lingerie boutique in Manhattan called The Rack Shack with one simple mission: get properly measured for the first time in years.

Four children later,  my youngest now eighteen, I figured it might be time to finally discover what size I actually was.

Spoiler alert: not the size I thought I was.

Not even close.

The lovely store owner, Laura,  disappeared and returned with a bra for me to try “just for sizing.”

Which, of course, is the lingerie equivalent of a Sephora employee saying, “Just test this lipstick.”

Minutes later, there I was staring at myself in the mirror wearing a bra that actually fit. Properly. Lifted beautifully. Held everything exactly where it should be held. Suddenly my posture improved. My waist looked smaller. My clothes hung better. I looked… alive again.

Then came the dangerous question.

“What colours do you usually wear?”

“Black or nude,” I replied responsibly.

She nodded politely before returning with:

• a bright, unapologetically pink bra,

• a stunning black lace number,

• and a white bra with delicate nude lace cups that looked like something a Parisian woman would wear while drinking champagne on a balcony.

Naturally, I bought all three.

And walking home with that little shopping bag swinging beside me, I realised something important:

It wasn’t really about the bras.

It was about permission.

Permission to still feel sexy.
Permission to indulge.
Permission to buy something beautiful that nobody else necessarily needed to see.
Permission to remember that underneath the responsibilities, the schedules, the motherhood, the exhaustion, and the endless giving… there is still a woman there.

A hot one, actually.

And here’s the thing nobody tells women enough:
You do not need a special occasion to feel beautiful.

You do not need a partner.
You do not need validation.
You do not need to hit a goal weight.
You do not need a holiday.
You do not need your life perfectly together.

Sometimes buying the bra is the occasion.

Sometimes a beautifully fitting bra, a swipe of lipstick, fresh sheets, expensive perfume, or silky pyjamas are not frivolous purchases at all.

They are reminders.

Reminders that you are still worthy of pleasure.
Still worthy of softness.
Still worthy of decadence.
Still worthy of feeling desired,  especially by yourself.

At Lubify, we talk a lot about intimacy. But true intimacy doesn’t begin in the bedroom.

It begins in the tiny moments where women reconnect with themselves again.

The little luxuries.
The sensual rituals.
The decision to stop treating ourselves like an afterthought.

Because after all the wars women survive, childbirth, aging, reinvention, grief, hormones, heartbreak, careers, caregiving, starting over the least we deserve is the beautiful bra.

So this is your sign.

Go get measured.

Buy the pink one.

Buy the lace one.

Buy the one that makes you stand taller in the mirror.

Not for him.
Not for anyone else.

For you, darling.

Because she’s still in there.
 And she deserves beautiful things