I went bra shopping and I won!

Bra shopping.  Three days ago.  I finally feel strong enough to blog about it. 

Mine are all to big for me now, because altho I'm proud to have lost weight, two and a half thirds of the weight I have lost has been in the boobies.  Which would imply that I was quite ... chesty, but somehow, that was not the case, either.  Life is not fair, as I have well established. 

So.  I tried on 47 bras.  Yes, I counted.  You may think I counted because I am anal that way.  No.  I counted, knowing that there was a possibility of blogging about it.  You never know what might be blog-worthy, so it pays to pay attention to the details. 

So.  I tried on 47 bras.  Only 6 items are allowed in the dressing room at one time.  I drew the line at re-dressing after each 6 items so that I could go get the next six, asking the clerk very politely if she could take the 6, and bring me the next 6, which were sitting in the cart close by, thank you very much, please.  And oh, please, after I try them on, please place them in the appropriate piles somewhere out there because there's no room in the dressing room. 

1.  Possible, but Have to Try a Different Size Pile.

2.  Possible, but I can't Decide if Purple is really my Color Pile.

3.  Possible, but I can't decide if Flesh-Toned is really my Color Pile.  No wait, that one can probably go in pile # 3.  Sorry.

4.  What was I Thinking Pile.  (The water bra, for one.  The Bare Intimate left alot to be desired.  And the deep plunging one.  There's nothing deep about my boobs, nor do I want any plunging going on).

5.  No. 

6.Oh HELL no.

7.  Yes. 

But wait.  The Yes pile isn't necessarily a done deal.  There is an international law, applicable in all nations, that once a woman has finally found a bra that actually fits, when she goes back to grab a couple more from the rack from whence it came... said law requires that there are none.  Even if a shopper is clever enough to check that there are 20 bras of the same size before she tries one on, the International Evil Bra Snatcher comes along and buys all twenty of them while the poor victim is still in the dressing room, who in her blissful but short-lived ignorance is jumping up and down, celebrating the fact that she's found a bra that fits.

One of the sad facts of my life is that I've never known what bra size I was.  How much of that is due to denial is for my God/Higher Power business to determine.  Way back in the beginning, being a 32AA was a shameful secret, so I'd pretend a 34B fit me better, which it did not.  (I wished it would have been a shameful secret had it not been for the fact that a lady clerk was trying to size/fit/maul my little rosebuds into a training bra and I'm sure she got on the phone and called everyone she knew to say she'd just fitted at 20 year old with a -2AA)  (And what the hell was a training bra all about?  Obviously I got a defective brand, since the boobies stayed small)  Then I blamed the bra manufactures, who decided their own brand was the one true sizing measurement, and who cared if all the other manufactures said a 36C was really a 34B - they were going to make their 36C's really fit 34B's, thereby feeding into that secret shame of being too small.  Pretty soon, all the different manufacturers followed suit, and never again did a Cross My Heart 36B be the same size as a Victoria Secrets 36B.  I've been everything from a 32AA to a 42C.  Did you know there's no such thing as a 40A or B?  Not in any store I've shopped at.  Today I learned that sizes go from 32AA to 54H.  I also Googled how to find your bra size, and was pleased to learn that I had bought the right size.  Plus?  It only took 4 hours to do so.  Score!

We women make the joke about how we don't have any concept of measurements, because our men are contantly telling us 6 inches is really.... 12 inches?  If you know what I mean.  Well, we women also have our numbers shame when it comes to personal anatomy.  Only we get letters to go along with our number, so we get to fool ourselves twice over. 

Speaking of fooling ourselves, we also try to fool the male species.  With padded bras, push-up bras and implants.  Which I never really understood, cause do you keep the pad and the push-up on when you get naked in front of a man to keep the illusion going?  Not to mention the padding gets all crumpled in the wash which translates into wrinkled under the t-shirt.  Not a desired result either.  And fake boobs?  They look fake. 

So anyways, I tried on 47 bras.  (It's all in the details)  The manufacturers must have got their act together, because for the first time ever, I was a consistent 36C.  Evidently I gained 4 inches on the band size (across my back) when I gave birth. 

Twenty-five years ago. 

Whatev. 

.

Comments

[Poogie]

even if you do find a bra that fits and they have more than one--wait til you want another one on another day---they quit making them as soon as possible after you buy one!! it's the law.

[TC]

Oh. my. good. hell. I didn't know about the law. I thought it was nasty mean sales clerks being bored with their jobs robbing the extra wonderful bras that fit off the rack so that they can laugh behind your back at the frustration of not finding more than one! AND PRICES!!!! HOLY crap!