(I am also not computer savy, so I don’t know how to do the link thing correctly. I’m working on it.) Back to Tinkerbelle; she recently posted about another blog that she follows and the topic was bras and panties: to match or not to match. It got me thinking about my issues with clothes shopping in general, but more specifically, bra shopping. I can’t be the only woman on this planet that suffers from PTSD everytime she enters the lingerie department.
But, according to Carsen Kressley,
my boobs do indeed, qualify for the endangered species list. He had a show for awhile, “How to Look Good Naked”, which I watched a couple of times because I was curious if that was even possible; I didn’t really believe it, but I consider myself an open minded person and gave it a shot. Instead, I discover that I may very well be a human oddity. On one episode he was explaining to one victim woman the fact that most woman are wearing the wrong bra and don’t really know how to get a proper fit. Duh. Then he went on to explain how “it is rare for a woman not to gain weight in her breasts as she gains weight everywhere else”. . . or something to that effect. All I know is that I AM that rare oddity.
I’m not revealing any actual numbers, TMI for me, but I will say that I am about 45 pounds more than I should be; and at my worst, I never actually hit the bicentennial, but I came close. (Okay, I may have at one point, but since I never got on the scale at that time to verify it, I technically stayed just this side of that particular number. . . it’s my world, I make the rules.)
In the last 20+ years, and throughout allll of my various pinnacles of weight, I have always remained a “B” cup. Yes, I know,” her weight is TMI but her cup size is available for public consumption???” What can I say? Sorry, back to the cup. I have been “professionally” sized at nice dept stores, and at not-so-nice dept stores; i.e. Victoria’s Secret, that vile woman hating store. I don’t even exist according to the inventory of that place. I was told by one woman who sized me that I was actually a “D” cup. Ha! Boy was she confused, and she didn’t hide that fact very well either. I’ve been put into a couple of “C” cups that did that fit in the store just fine thing, and then a week later, I could put a pair of socks under each boob and still not have a bra muffin-top.
I have recently come to the conclusion that the women’s movement of my mother’s generation got it wrong; they shouldn’t have been burning the bras,
They should have been REDESIGNING them!
Ah crap, I can’t get back the previous font color…told you I wasn’t computer savvy.
Well it’s time to head to work to serve some ale for the next 6 hours, followed by helping a friend through some post-breakup blues.
Next time I will have to share my shoe issues….