WARNING: Whingey-poo post ahead. Only read if you are female. I talk too much about my lady parts. Deal with it or don't read.
Thank you Seafolly for rescuing me in my darkest hour. Just when I was about to give up and wear a zentai suit, there you were. I had tried thousands of bikinis and nothing worked. Well, bikini isn't even the right word. Nipple cover would be more appropriate.
Everyone knows swimwear shopping is emotional torture. Especially for us mis-matched sized girls (i.e. our top size is different to our bottom size).
Zimmermann, Tigerlily, Anna and Boy? Dream on. They don't cater for your larger busted babes, so it's off to the seedy separate section for us. I can't even look at their stuff, it's so gorgeous it breaks my heart. It makes me wishful for my pre-puberty days. Oh to be as flat as a tack! Or the toddler years, when you could get away with running around naked.
So thank you Seafolly for making the cutest separates I've ever laid my eyes on. They're frilly, flattering and like a magical boob job. And by boob job, I mean they somehow make my boobs look smaller and perkier. They're my bikini equivalent of The One.
And thank you Shan Dog for suggesting to pop into the sacred haven that is Seafolly and for having the patience to come cossie shopping with me. That in itself is an achievement!
Gosh balls, bikini shopping is a hoot! Now if only I had Jess Hart's hot bod...