Nobody can say customs officers at Stansted airport aren’t taking their jobs seriously! So seriously in fact, that I almost felt a bit like a criminal after being frisked 3x and all because of a well-fitting bra last week…
Thanks to M&S, I am purposefully and properly hoisted up, thank you very much, which at my cupsize of DD is rather important. But instead of appreciating the fact that I like my lovely pair to be restrained in their movement, the machine beeped violently. I was asked to take off my belt, my boots AND my hairclips. While desperately trying to prevent my pair of jeans from succumbing to the effect of gravity, I stepped through the metal detector machine a second time, bar not only various bits of clothing but also quite a chunk of my dignity.
And again, I made things beep!
The officer went into overdrive, seemingly very intent on finding prohibited objects under my armpits. She then pinched me slightly in my arms (no, those bingo wings do not hold anything sharp!) and proceeded to prod me especially where there was wiring in my most sturdy piece of garment. This privilege is usually my husband’s, nobody else’s.
Then the handheld metal detector came out, and you should have seen the look on the officer’s face when it screamed the place together with its beeping in the middle of my back. One or two little hooks just wouldn’t do the job, is all I am saying.
This invasion of rather private areas might just prompt me to make do with a more floppy sports bra next time and then get changed in the toilets afterwards into something more supportive!
On the way back, the German authorities, despite sticking their hands inside my jeans – back and front! – were nowhere near as worried, apparently the invention of the bra isn’t quite as new there as it seems to be in England…