When did bra shopping become so ridiculously complicated?
Unlike some arenas in my life, I like a very straightforward bra. In fact, these are the basic three criterion:
2. Has Underwire
In sum, I want a bra that holds up "the girls" AND doesn't make me sweat.
Since I was down to my last three serviceable bras, I knew I needed to make the trek out and secure more. I mean, rotating the same three bras was getting a little depressing. They weren't looking so good and while Terrance doesn't require me to be any kind of Sex Kitten, I still retain some basic female pride in my appearance.
And honestly, I LIKE my boobs. We've been good friends, me and them. They have held up well under the demands of nursing a baby and retained a bit of their youthful demeanor. They aren't "perky" per se, but I stopped being perky about 22 years ago so I really can't hold my boobs up to a standard to which I can't measure anything else.
Imagine my surprise when faced with a sea of padded, molded cup bras...When the hell did THIS happen?? Who needs this padding? What the hell is going on with this scary perma-shape boob thing? Is there not a Bra for an adult woman without bells and whistles? Can I get one that fits the diameter of my body without making me feel as if I am being forced into the throat of a boa constrictor?
Maybe I can blame it on growing up in Vermont and then living in New Hampshire. I need a Yankee Bra, one that I can tend the garden, shovel the snow, wrangle the children and perhaps braid a wool rug if the spirit so moves me. You know - a PRACTICAL bra for PRACTICAL New Englanders.
Maybe I can blame it partially on my genetics - This is not a Victoria's Secret kind of body. My boobs Laugh At those bras. About three years ago, in an effort to make myself a bit more fancy, I tried - honestly I did. I went into the store and started looking and even tried on a few of the "XL" sizes in those types of stores. Not only could I not shove all boobage INTO the alloted space, but usually, I couldn't get the damn thing all the way around my apparently Freakishly huge ribcage.
My foray into the lingerie stores have taught me that I am an Unnaturally well endowed female with the rib cage circumference of a WWF wrestler. There might as well be a flashing sign shouting "THESE BRAS ARE NOT FOR YOU, GORILLA CHEST!" in the window. This does not encourage my shopping for new bras....which is why I was down to the aforementioned three bras. A white one, a pink one and one that had been brown-ish before being washed with a dark blue towel several months ago, so it now has the color of a healing bruise.
This is how I found myself adrift in the sea of Padded, Molded, Bedazzled Bras on a Saturday Afternoon.