I met my Sister-in-Law after work yesterday and we did a little shopping. A very little shopping. We went into a lot of stores and looked around, but I only ended up getting a top, for $16 woohoo! and then a couple bras. I have been needing bras for a while* and it has been some time since I was measured, so I thought ‘it’s time’. Why I decided to get a bra fitting while I was out with my adorable, size 2 SIL I have no idea. But I did.
Well I should say, first I pulled a couple bras in what I thought would be “my size” but when I got to the dressing room I was instantly shocked to realize this was not my size. So I call the lady over, she asks what I think my size is, my response “—C”. No, I am not telling you, I am embarrassed enough okay? She says dramatically “Oh no, you are definitely a D or a DD”. Um exqueeze me?. So she brings out a mondo cup, you know the ones that could double as a hat. I comply because after all, she is the one with the pink tape measure. I put mondo-bra on and then push the little button, as she said to do. Meanwhile I am mortified my SIL is right outside the door and knows I have gone up a cup size and have monster boobs. Wearing the first D she brought was like moving a maid into a mansion. There was too much room. She handed me the C to compare and that’s when I saw it, the side boob. Now I am in a nightmare! That’s right I had to get a bigger cup size because there is extra flesh out of place. What the hell is going on?
She evaluated that their newest bra ran a little smaller and that D would probably work. Hmm how convenient, your newest and most expensive bra will fit me better you say? So I try that on, but then I have grandma bra going on. I am a demi kind of girl and she definitely handed me a full-coverage. What am I a nun? Paaallleeeaase. So poor overworked consultant was off getting a couple bras for another patron and I ask SIL to go snag two of the 2 for $45 bras in my size to try that sucker on. I dreaded asking her, but then again, she already knew too much (note to self, figure out how to make her forget….). SIL snags a C and D. But now I definitely need the D to accommodate the hideous side boob. Ugh!. Whatever. I buy two of the cheaper cotton boob slings and spend the next 30 minutes mentally swearing to myself about how I have let myself go. This battle of fat eviction has gone from code orange to code red! Red people! Run for your lives.
*Funny story about needing bras: So I was shopping with Bret and we were in Anthropologie lookin’ around. You know how you talk louder in places where there is music so the person you are with can hear you? Yeah well we were headed into the “sale” den or whatever that place was called and I was telling her ‘I seriously need to get some new bras’, right as we walked through the doorway. There were no speakers in there so I instantly realize how loud that was. The second thing I realize was that there was a mom and daughter duo in there too. I say to Bret, ‘Ooops. I didn’t realize how loud I was talking’. Then in hopes of a recovery from frightening the two ladies in there I say ‘Sorry! I didn’t mean to announce that to you all’. They thought it was hilarious and we all had a good laugh.