On a work trip to Melbourne, I detoured into the city to get fitted for a bra. A friend had shared that it was an experience all women should have because, regardless of age and body type, a supportive bra is always worthwhile; as is the firm yet kind guidance of a professional fitter who has seen it all.

“It was her hand on my upper back to steady me,” my friend said. “It made me cry.”

Despite my tendency to recoil from department stores, I went to level three seeking a small moment of guidance, with a supportive hand on my back.

I breastfed four babies for eight years, wearing maternity bras for too many months after my youngest had weaned. The elastic had stretched and the stitching had frayed. These bras were not unlike me: tired, soft around the edges and a little threadbare.

Now as I enter perimenopause, I’m having a hard time articulating exactly how to define the change, even though the shift into a new life stage is overt. I heard that the first symptom is rather ambiguous – feeling not quite like yourself – and I nod and think: That’s........

© The Guardian