It's All About the Ta-Tas

This is a tale about how the purchase of this...

Led to the consumption of this...

And a few of these...

This week we had another snowday and when the cabin fever set in I decided it was time to face the dreaded task that I had been putting off for weeks; I had to go and buy a new bra.  This is akin to swimsuit shopping on my list of things I would rather gargle glass than do.  It is almost as much fun as a root canal.

  Now for those of you that have "normal" size boobs (whatever those are), I envy you with everything I have.  I envy that there are actually sizes available to you at Victoria's Secret.  I envy that when you go to buy a "good" bra, it does not have to cost you more than $35 or $40.  I envy that when you put on a bra from a store, you don't immediately worry about the dreaded 4 boobs syndrome, that your back doesn't ache at the end of the day, that if you were to decide to wear a push up bra, you would not be resting your chin on your boobs, etc.  Now I know we all have our crosses to bear and that all of us are annoyed with some part of our body at some point, but yesterday took the cake for me. 

I braved one of the department stores to tackle the task.  After 15 minutes of looking totally overwhelmed, a lovely, perky sales girl came to my rescue to recommend all of the sturdy undergarments she thought I would need.  Taking arms full of bras back to the dressing room with me (God forbid you don't have enough options and have to get dressed to go back out and look again), my lovely, perky sales girl says to just ring the bell if I need anything and she will come in periodically to check on me.  Just like that.  Just like I would throw a couple on, pick my fav color and would be on my way to look at shoes or lip gloss.  Does that actually happen for women?! 

I begin trying on bras and in no time at all, I am sweating and panting from the wrestling match that this has become.  Eveytime I think, "The next bra is going to fit and be perfect and then I can get the hell out of here".  And then while I am cursing everything I have eaten in the last 6 months while looking at myself in those God awful dressing room mirrors I get distracted, forget that I have to loosen the straps so I can get my arms into them and then I am stuck, arm bent in an unspeakble way, sweating, red bellied from hooking and twisting the bras around, trying to figure out how in the hell I am going to get the bra off.  This happens every single time I put one on!  Like I have forgotten in the last minute that I have to loosen the straps!  How stupid am I?  Then comes the knock at the door, "Are you ok in there honey?"  Trying to sound natural, not out of breath and panicked that I may be tearing the stitching on an $80 bra to get my arm out of it, "Doing fine.  Can you bring me that La Mystere in black?"   Thinking to myself, "Please do not open this door and witness the carnage in this dressing room".  This whole episode goes on for about 35-40 minutes until I am ready to start crying and just go buy a sports bra to wear until the perfect sized bra presents itself to me in my drawer by some miracle.  Finally, about 20 bras into it, I find one that fits.  By this time, the back of my hair is wet from sweating, I am sitting on the bench, smelling like a farm animal with a pile of bras around me, trying to catch my breath.  She knocks again, "How are we?  Are you finding anything?" 

"Yes.  I think I have found one."  PRAISE GOD I HAVE FOUND ONE!  THANK YOU, BABY JESUS, I HAVE FOUND A BRA!! I want to say while weeping exhausted tears of joy.  I tear the tags off and hand them through the door cause I will be damned before I take off one more bra today, "Just go ahead and ring it up and I'll be right out" (pant, pant).

By the time I get home, I am exhausted and shell shocked from the entire event that has cost me my dignity and $82.68 and as an added bonus have found that I have re-injured my elbow FROM TRYING ON BRAS.  If that isn't something special, I don't know what is.  That led to liquor and aleve in regular intervals for the rest of the evening.  On pay day I am going back to buy 2 more of the same so I don't have to do that again for a long, long time. That kind of aggravation is proof that it really is all about the ta-tas. 

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  1. Oh my friend....I can relate on so many levels and have been there so many more times than I care to admit. And just for the record, I had mine downsized about 10 years ago and it still hasn't gotten any better (I'm pretty sure they grew back). My 'go to' store as of late is Cacique - do you have one? They are part of Lane Bryant and are taylor-made for the 'big-boobed' girl. So happy you found something you like and hope you don't have to go through the horror of bra shopping again any time soon!