I wore the same bra two days in a row because I forgot myself again

Dear Delyara, That sounds like such a small thing, and maybe it is. But this morning when I realized I had done it, I felt that familiar wave of quiet irritation — not at the bra, but at how easily my own comfort slips to the bottom of the list when life gets crowded. I had remembered packed lunches, my son’s reading book, the bank transfer, the birthday message for my aunt, and the fact that we were low on washing-up liquid. I had not remembered to put on a wash that contained the one bra I actually like wearing when I know I’ll be out all day. So there I was, standing in front of the mirror, already running late, making do again. I think that phrase explains a lot of women’s lives: making do again. Not collapsing. Not neglected in a dramatic movie sense. Just repeatedly putting yourself into second-best conditions because there was always someone or something else to remember first. By lunchtime, I had a headache and a red mark across one shoulder. It felt symbolic enough to annoy me.