Calling my daughter's bluff in the bra department

My 12-year-old daughter has been making noises about needing a bra. She doesn’t need a bra. I told her that while I have no doubt she really wants one, there's a big difference between that and actually needing one.

I don’t why I bothered with my speech about her wanting to grow up too fast, because if I’m honest, I knew I was going to get my daughter a bra the minute she requested one.

While I know I’m relatively straitlaced when it comes to most things regarding my 12-year-old, I vowed long before I had children that my daughter would never go through the embarrassment I felt at 14 when I was still wearing a cami-top despite requiring a D cup.

So when I agreed to take my daughter bra-shopping with little to no quibbling, I was met with suspicion.

“Why are you taking me? Why are you saying yes?”

“Well, because you asked and I want to.”

She backed out of the kitchen with a furrowed brow.

I like to keep her on her toes.

She appeared a little meek on the morning of our bra-shopping adventure. Part of me thinks she only requested one because she wanted me to say no and then she could have what she would consider a ‘justified’ melt-down. Well, tough.

I helped her choose three double A bras and hid a laugh when she told the assistant she was probably a C-cup. As it turned out, the bras we chose were a little generous, but what harm?

If my daughter feels more confident in the school changing room and after-school ballet class because she’s been promoted from a cami to a bra, then my work here is done.

She didn’t need a bra. I knew it, the assistant knew it and I think having tried them on, she knew it too, but so what? She has them now. She can wear them if and when she wants.

Upon seeing her proudly grip the handles of the chain store bag, I realised what I had actually purchased my daughter was three secondary school security blankets.

And I'm OK with that.