One of my younger sisters is graduating from her dental hygeine program today, so this past weekend her and my mudder came to visit, which of course meant shopping. Little sis needed a dress, and as much as I HATE shopping off we went. We hit every store in the Niagara region, and finally found the right one. Then she announced she need to get a bra to wear under the dress.
"Bra Shopping” is one of the worst phrases you can utter in my direction. Substitute, “purse,” or “shoes,” or even “sex toys,” and I'll go with, but the word bra sends shivers up my spine. When I'm trying on a bra, every bra nightmare I've ever had comes sling-shotting back at my self-esteem as if loaded and launched from a 44DDD. The cups overflowing, the wires digging into my sides, the strap marks in my shoulders, the rolls of flubber hanging around my middle, the flourescent lights, the lady with her measureing tape, and the calling out of my not so small size across the store. I shudder now!
Mudder and sister busied themselves looking for little air pocket filled, chicken cultett inserted cutsie bras while I wandered the midevil boulder holder collection for the "larger" busted like myself. Finally my arms were loaded and I stomped into the dressing room, expecting the worst, and got it. Kiddo mudder and sister found the 'perfect' lacey strapless push up, and had the pleasure of waiting outside my changerom closet door, listening to the curses muttered by my trucker mouth.
One sales lady, six trips and 25 bras later I came home with one slightly less then ugly bra in a size I thought was a swear word. Dear Victoria’s Secret Angel where were you when I needed you!
October is breast cancer awareness month, so ladies take the girls out of their cages and give them a squeeze! Or follow this link for more info on Breast Self Exams
