Let's talk about sleep and health

For a while now I've been thinking about writing the odd post that's about health and wellbeing, all the stuff that we women do day in, day out, to stay well after wrangling with ill health. We have things that we do, plans we follow, mantras that guide us, and hopes that by doing them all we will lead the healthiest lives we possible can. 

So when I woke up this morning after a rare good night's sleep (it's a treat, not a given for me), I decided it was time to write my first 'health' post for millie. Why? Because millie is so much more than just empowering women one bra at a time, it's empowering. Full stop.

Each and every conversation I have with women about millie is positive, enlightening, and relationship building, so why not talk about health as well? Not the scary, medical end of cancer itself, we've all been there, done that. Many of us know that it's a lifelong feature of our lives, but it's not a definition, but there are aspects of health and wellbeing that we like to share. So let's talk about the good stuff too, the things we do that make a small difference to how we feel, and let's share them.

So, back to sleep. Today is World Sleep Day 2018 and I slept well, hurrah! But why is it so important for me and thousands of women like me? Because with a good night's sleep in our bags, the day looks entirely different. We begin it with both feet facing forwards, not one stuck in a sludgy mud, refusing to budge, and making us feel like the things we have to do today are just a little bit too hard. Poor sleep can heighten emotions, feelings of anxiety, and plummet low moods even further.

There's no magic wand or recipe for a good night's sleep, but when it happens, it's a joy. Lately I've been keeping track of the variables the affect my sleep, using an app called SnoreLab (yes, I snore). I can add variables of my own, which for me include exercise type (walk, swim, run, yoga), remedies (St. Johns Wort, SoeMac), a shower, wearing my mouthguard (I spit it out in my sleep, useless thing, haha) and so on. 

I've just coughed up the £3.99 premium fee to see my 'trends', and guess what? I know what makes me snore the loudest, and wake me up the most times. You aren't going to like this.... ALCOHOL! I know, nightmare. I've worked out that wine is a bigger villain than gin, but I wake up more times each night, and for longer, if I drink either. Bother.

So, information is everything to me, and now I know from hard evidence that I can choose, sleep or sauvignon, the choice is mine. Increasingly, I'm choosing sleep and the resulting feeling of wellbeing more and more often. That's not to say I'm going teetotal (heck, no!), but I can choose when I need to sleep more than I NEED a glass of wine.

I made another choice today, swim or walk. I didn't fancy chlorine, and the sun was out, so I put my boots on and headed down to the river;  the photo is what I was rewarded with. Mindful bliss.

If anyone reading this would like to guest blog about their own health following a breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, please email me:

my Chantelle moment

My lingerie choices for the past two years have been very restricted. Four rounds of surgery, bloating from treatment and lack of exercise, and hey presto, my band size and bra requirements both went up, and my confidence shot down.

I decided to do some bra market research, and see how far I could get past my imposed lingerie restrictions, so off we went to Birmingham, home of the Bull Ring and mecca for fashionistas of the Midlands. First stop, Selfridges.

The lingerie department was discreetly tucked away, good place to start. On close inspection it was tiny; only a few well chosen brands and not much  choice. High on my wish list was non-wired, that’s what I’ve been wearing for two years, and like or it not, feel comfortable in. Calvin Klein won the prize for the only bra in this category. Plain, stylish, but very padded, and I do mean knock yourself out padded. Undeterred, I de-robed.

I should probably mention at this point that I was co-shopping with a fashion expert from Nottingham Trent University, also an experienced lingerie designer (very handy). Sue’s role for the day was to evaluate style and fit, and encourage me to try on things I wouldn’t normally touch with a barge pole.

First up, and CK bra on, I bravely ventured out into the small space outside my rather uninspiring changing room (was I in Sainsbury’s or Selfridges?!). I felt like I’d got someone else bra on, but my cleavage had re-appeared (thought I’d lost that two years ago), and there I was looking down at some serious boost. Now, you might think I’d be mighty pleased about this? Erm, more like uncertain. It didn’t ‘look quite like me’. Regardless, the bra was declared ‘a good fit’ and duly purchased.

Next stop, Debenhams. Now I could bore you with the grim details, but I wouldn’t want to waste either your time or mine. Suffice to say, there were 1000’s of bras, poorly merchandised, and completely underwhelming as a customer proposition (you can take the girl out of retail, but you can’t take retail out of the girl). I tried on two bras, both disastrous, the Triumph was comfortable yes, but gave no shape whatsoever, and a simple Playtex style. Awful. Sue found a tee shirt bra for herself at £15 though, so all was not lost.

After refueling, our next stop was House of Fraser. This is a quaint old store, I bought my 21st birthday party dress there decades ago, and it’s not changed much since (as an aside). Now, I have to say that my expectations were low; my local H of F lingerie department is pretty poor. Thankfully, I was quite surprised when we entered a large, well-stocked, contemporary looking department with an array of brands to choose from. My expectation level rose. Could they live up to it?

Sue was in full flight by now, and she hovered up armfuls of fabulous bras in minutes (see picture). The first few were tried on with Sue’s careful evaluation, and by this time, I’d lost all fear of standing around in my bra and talking about my breasts. An assistant who’d been discretely lurking then stepped up, and suddenly we were in a whole different shopping zone. Sam knew her stock, her fitting, and most of all, how to engage with her customer; she ‘got’ me.

In all we spent 2.5hrs in said fitting room, countless bras tried and tested, and 4 happy purchases made.

But I must tell you about my ‘moment’. Sam brought in what I can only describe as a lingerie vision; a wispy, flimsy, beautifully crafted piece of Chantelle magic. I frowned, my expression conveying the instant doubt in my mind that said lingerie gem would come anywhere close to meeting my specific needs and wishes. Undeterred I tried it on and looked up into the mirror.

Standing there looking back at me was someone I’ve not seen in a very long time. A feminine, sophisticated, sensational looking woman in a glorious piece of kit; ‘is that really me?!’.

That was my Chantelle moment, when for a brief time, all the pain and sadness from what has happened to my right breast disappeared. I stood there taking a slow studied look at myself, as it began to sink in that something inside me had been restored.