Okay, here’s some background info.

I got my first bra when I was nine. I had to wear a bra for two years of primary school. I remember getting changed for P.E. for the first time after getting it and a girl in my class ran into the boys changing room and told the whole year that Jayne wears a bra. I was mortified, but that was the start of it all.

By the time I started senior school, my boobs were a C-cup. In year nine, I wore a double-D. In fact, my friends called me DeeDee for a while. Until they kept growing. By the time I left senior school, I had G-cup boobs. 16 and a G-cup. There were two Jaynes in my year (actually, one Jayne and one Jane) but if someone said ‘Ja(y)ne’ and they didn’t know which one, I’d invariably be described as ‘The One with the Boobs’. I put up with years of conversations with teenage boys who couldn’t tell you what I looked like from the neck up, but were familiar with every contour that nestled under my shirt.

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