UPBRA – An uplifting experience
I was recently contacted by a company over in America called Upbra who said they’d seen the blog and loved our style, and they wanted to send some bras to review. They said that the line of Upbra® Cleavage Enhancing bras use the new patented ActiveLift® technology to give more cleavage to smaller cup sizes and more lift to women with larger cup sizes, better than any other bra. I thought “what could be better than freebies?!” and upon looking at their bras I got all excited because honestly they look like they do an awesome job… but I would never know for myself because my 36FF’s aren’t the easiest to shop for. But thankfully I know a lovely lady called Laura (who you may know from some hilarious writing such as where she sold her engagement ring on eBay), and I thought she might appreciate a freebie and to write a funny and honest review. So Laura kindly tried Upbra out, had a bottle of prosecco, and wrote:
I blossomed boobily much quicker than the other girls at my primary school.
I remember being in the queue for some Starburst at the Kiosk at Sainsbury’s once in my school uniform and the woman exclaimed, ‘You’re not in Primary School are you?!’
I pointed to the school logo which happened to be exuding above my left breast, morphing the stitched letters into pixelated versions of themselves, and said ‘Yeah, I’m in Year 6.’
She told me if I’d have asked her for alcohol, she would’ve sold it to me with those boobs. I took my Starburst and left, pulling my cardigan down so you could read the logo properly without my C cups fucking up the meaning entirely, ‘Only my best is good enough for me.’ With the hindsight of a woman with tits that she can literally manipulate into her belly button if she tried, that logo would now read ‘Only my breast is good enough for me’, as really, that was the highlight of my career of a woman with breasts.
I grew early and never grew again. So I spent the rest of my time in puberty hell, literally dragging and lagging behind the girls who sprouted fully and firmly at the age of 13.
I wasn’t one of those girls at high school who put toilet paper in their bras to make their boobs look bigger and more rounded in the right places.
For me, it was cotton wool. It was calmer on the nips and gave a more sensible, well-rounded hand-feel to the boy I was trying to impress in McDonalds where I had my first fondle at 13 years old. I mean, in hindsight maybe felt would’ve been a better material as I’m sure he fondled right through a ball of it at one stage and probably thought he’d popped my fucking tit.
I once compared nipple sizes with one of my old best friends as she was terrified hers were too big for her boobs (in the immortal words of Stormzy though, babe, your nips were never too big for your boob.)
Then, at the age of 14, something weird happened.
My mum played one of those games at the airport where you have to complete an impossible picture quiz and pay £10 and you maybe win a car?
Well, she won.
She won HALF OF THE CAR.
Because two people got it right, they split the price of the car and she got the money.
Now any reasonable person would be like, spend it on a sick family holiday, save it up for your daughter’s university fees in the future…
Not my mum.
She got a boob job.
And suddenly, my family home became a place obsessed with boobs. And this is a movement I firmly (or not so firmly) joined.
My mum used to invite my friends to feel her breasts, just for how firm and upright they felt. And, can I tell you, they were the most firm and upright £12,500 I’ve ever felt.
In a family now where boob size and shape mattered, my mum used to come back from the M&S sales with bras in a B cup for me. When I used to yell, ‘MA! I’M A C CUP!’ she used to laugh and look down at the sagging mass of hormones before her – boobs grown before their time – and say ‘Laura, you need a B to give these guys any lift.’
And here I sit. 14 years later. With bras that merely cup and don’t lift. Bras that just shape the mass and allow me to get by in a t-shirt without them colluding to conquer my belly button.
Until Jade, from Let’s Bee Together, messaged. A friend who came forward to tell me her boobs were too big for an assignment, and would I accept? Never been happier for a friend of age to tell me about the size of her boobs.
She asked me to write a piece about Upbra – a new company from America who were designing bras that would literally take my hormone sacks to new heights.
Fast forward a few weeks and a box arrived at my home. Wrapped in perfect pink tissue paper and an actual instruction manual (!) on how to use my new Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders, I have never felt like my boobs were in safer hands. (And believe me, my boobs have been in many unsafe hands. I’m looking at you, first boyfriend.)
I put the first bra on; a nude T-shirt bra with, what felt like, loving hands to sit underneath my breasts to push them to the ladies they could and should be. And mate did they!
I came in to show my boyfriend and he was in awe. They were just chilling under my chin as if they’ve always been there as if this were the place woman’s love sacks were supposed to reside. They created a cleavage I could’ve stored snacks in, and later on that night under the influence of much prosecco, I did. And snacks have never been easier to reach from mouth to cleave without hands at this moment. It’s ideal when you’re holding your Bae’s hand with one hand and a prosecco with the other and you want a snack. Behold, the first benefit of the Upbra!
The next day, I wore the Upbra to work. Under a t-shirt which usually makes me look like a pre-pubescent boy with terrible abs. Looking in the mirror, it felt weird. I was usually used to the girls hanging around at elbow height. Now, they were an asset screaming ‘Look at us! It’s our coming out party!’ Weirdly enough, the rest of the day went pretty normally, apart from getting in my car and putting my seatbelt on. You would not believe the absolute break this created – it was like parting of the Red Sea for two absolute units. It was a hot day, I had my window open, and I received the attention of 3 separate white van men looking at the rounded goddess that was my driver’s side tit. (Also, men, can we stop this? I am not going to pull my car over in the duel fucking carriageway with my perfectly held breasts to come on to you because you shouted that I looked fit through your window whilst inhaling on your vape in a dirty vest, remnants of your morning sausage roll hanging from your unkempt face at 8.30 in the morning.)
Now, just like a man who refuses to read the instructions for how to build his Ikea bookshelf and ended up with something that was slightly wonky and unattended to, I too forgot that this bra provided instructions and went in Gung Ho and, subsequently, ended up with a shelf that was slightly off-kilter.
Reading the instructions now, which are actually styled like a sexy woman’s magazine, the Upbra was actually developed with 3 goals in mind:
1. To give the kind of lift and cleavage that women never before thought possible. I mean, first of all, dead on. I felt like a fucking cartoon character from the 50s.
2. To make the bra fully adjustable, so that women could select the amount of lift they wanted.
3. To create this lift and cleavage naturally, without excessive padding.
1 and 3 were covered. But what about two? I went to investigate the inner workings of the bra and turned to page 5, named ‘UPBRA TUTORIAL’
Again, I never thought I needed a tutorial to wear a bra, but upon reading this and subsequently following said instructions I’ve now realised a thing has never needed instructions more. It describes that you should put it on as normal, but make sure that ‘you are hooked into the back band/wing of the bra fairly tight and not too loose since you will be activating the bra.’
I never thought a bra would have to be ‘activated’ but it’s never made me feel more like I was in Star Trek. Bra, activated!
Then, you need to adjust your breasts towards each other by pulling them up towards the centre of the bra. For any teenage boy out there bored of internet porn and feel like it creates unrealistic standards for men and women about sex, just watch a girl activating her up bra and you’ve got material to last you until University.
Then! There are actual straps located in the bottom of the bra, once you’ve created your ‘perfect cleavage’ (which I’ve decided is somewhere in between snack storage and snack destination between boulders) and then you clip it into the underside of the bra. And once the ‘cleavage control’ straps are hooked in, you’re good to go!
Honestly, nobody’s ever given my boobs more thought since that creepy guy who slid into my DMs a few weeks ago.
I also received a strapless bra to give a go. My issue with strapless? Ending up around my vagina after I’ve gone too hard on white girl grinding against my friends. But this guy not only stays in place, moreso than my mind and integrity does, it actually continues to lift and support throughout. Just like a strong group of girlfriends do when you think you’re killing it on the dancefloor 4 tequilas in, am I right?
Ultimately, I was probably the least likely person for Upbra to want to write this review. Mostly because I had given up on my boobs years ago, I often wish they were smaller so I didn’t have to actually wear bras on a daily basis and because I write so openly about my vagina. However, what I can say is that these guys have actually been a revelation to my chest. I honestly now have bras to accommodate for those days I’m feeling extra saucy and just want to lift the girls up to the heady heights of my ego. I love that they’re adjustable, like one day I can be feeling Pamela socking it down a beach, tomorrow I can be wanting Britney in Slave 4 U, and the bra caters for all my inner divas just wanting boob expression.
So for all my sisters out there feeling that their love sacks just aren’t doing their personality justice. Who feels like, yeah, they could be better, but why burden the failing NHS more with confidence issues about my A/B cups? I’m not saying these bras could save the NHS, but mate, they’re a hell of a start. So tell your mum to save her airport winnings on your university education, save the cotton wool for make up removal, buy an Upbra and remember that Only My Breast is Good Enough For Me.