It's All About the Bra

Maybe I watch too much What Not to Wear because I find my self really considering my clothes lately. (I do think Stacey would LOVE my shoes.)

Anyway, after seeing so many episodes with women who are, ummm, let's say 'well endowed' and hearing the mantra of "a good bra" I decided to suck it up and go get sized.

I went first to Younkers, a local 'upper scale' department store. I got measured. The woman said you can wear a 34, or a 36 if you need to. Then she counts the number of inches between my rib measurement and the largest part of my breasts. Then she looks me straight in the eye and says "The largest we have in that size is DDD. You can try them but I don't think they will be large enough".

I wanted to cry. And, of course everything in that size may as well be used to carry bowling balls; they are so ugly and matronly. So I did what any sad girl would; I bought a purse to match my new shoes.

So, it was with a sinking feeling in my stomach and a heavy heart that I sought out a store that specializes in bras. I got measured. 36 G.. Yes, G... as in god-damned big. Happily enough the bras they carry, though some "servicable" many were lovely and lacey. I bought two. And spent $128. On two bras!! How wrong is that?!? I suppose the aerospace engineers that designed them don't come cheap. But "the girls" are now back up where they belong.

So I happily put on one of my new girly shirts and joined my family for dinner to celebrate Father's Day.


Posing for the camera

Which leads me to another story. A short one, I promise.

We had planned to take my dad to a seafood restaurant that he enjoys. But they don't have a children's menu. A change of venue was necessary. Buca de Beppo was suggested; my step-mother apparently vetoed that because "I don't like the food there". My response (to my sister): "Who cares? It's not bitchy-step-mother day."
For more about our step-monster visit Jarod, complete with comments from the rest of us.