YOU can always count on best mates for tough love.
Just recently, I caught up with some friends I had not seen in a couple of months.
They noticed the weight loss immediately - very sweet of them. But suddenly, one remarked: 'What happened to your puppies? Where did they go?' Yet another quipped: 'Oh no, but they were your breast assets.'
Jokes aside, it did take me longer to get out of the house that night. I even contemplated skipping cocktails altogether.
Why? I had major wardrobe issues: My lacy (bra) cups were running empty, and nothing I was throwing on channelled my signature vamp look.
See, one of the plus sides of being a bigger girl is that you are busty.
In my case, I bordered between a D and double-D cup. I used to kid that when God was handing them out, I got in line twice in the boobs queue and missed out on the tush section altogether.
I don't even remember having a training bra or maybe, I never stayed in one long enough.
Of course, there were hiccups.
Classic silhouettes never sit right if you're top heavy. Forget the Le Smoking tux look. The whole androgynous phase was one trend I had to sit out completely.
You look choked in turtlenecks, shirts gape open, and high-neck crews always make you look like you're some pillowy bun that's going to burst at the seams.
On the up side, I filled out a knit sweater perfectly and V-neck tops and wrap-dresses offered titillating displays of cleavage.
Of course, I'm a woman who spoils her puppies. French lace, satin and silk, my pups are always dressed in the best, even if the bras come with three-figure price tags.
But life's a bitch. When the weight comes off, your bust also shrinks. For me, it's one of the first things to go in the battle of the bulge, and the last area to put it on.
There was a week that I saw the scales shift, but the kilos, I swear, came off my golden globes only and nowhere else.
One minute you have them, the next minute, you're playing hide and seek looking for them. I discovered my drastic loss last Friday. My V-neck dress was gaping wider than usual, no matter how I positioned and secured the ties.
A quick peek in the mirror explained it all.
There was a dent in my usually full lacy cups, and a gap between fabric and flesh - the signs of an ill fit. The globes getting smaller weren't the only cause of despair. That they were shrinking faster than my hips and waist meant my silhouette had changed.
I knew things were looking different for me when I put on a shirt and boyfriend cardigan, and for the first time, they sat perfectly.
'You can finally do androgyny,' a stylist pal quipped excitedly when I speed-dialled him to vent. I contemplated it for a second, while looking at my cupboards of cleavage-flattering outfits and drawers of lingerie. That really wouldn't be me, I told him.
It took me another 20 minutes after I hung up, to get out the door, somewhat vamped up.
The outfit was a black chiffon tunic thrown over a silk slip and lacy French demi-bra (it helped to put oomph back in the cleavage), paired with figure-hugging jeans.
If there is one lesson I have learnt from this, it is that whether you are busty or petite, the grass always seems greener on the other side, until you get there.
When your cups runneth over, you get frustrated when your shirt buttons pop open. But there are very few moments when you don't feel luscious or sexy.
A girl with a smaller chest, honestly, has options galore when it comes to clothes. Anything that does not fit right, can be stuffed or tucked. But when the clothes come off, it is hard not to feel a little inadequate, no matter how cute or pert they look.
So when the going gets rough, the tough go shopping.
I found myself shopping for lacy nothings again and yes, this time, I did not give the padded section a miss.
Because whatever size they are, sexy lingerie is like garnishing on the plate - it's there to help whet the appetite.
