Adventures With Unmentionables

Not long ago I was in desperate need of a new bra. I don’t really like shopping for bras, it’s actually worse than shopping for underwear because with those I know exactly what I like. One brand, one style, I know what store carries it, and it’s almost always the same price.

By contrast, bras are continuously being modified. Different styles, colors, fabric, trim, even the straps get changed. Lace or plain strap? Seam or smooth front? Since I don’t buy them very often, I have to really look through the racks to find something I’ll like, and then hope they have the right size. But there’s the real problem – I wasn’t sure what size to get.

Like most women, my boobies are asymmetrical, but the larger one is now a completely different size than the smaller one. It’s not hard to tell which one it is, although I wouldn’t recommend staring at a woman’s chest unless you have her express permission to do so. Having a large, crumb-catching, feet-obscuring, really-good-swimmer "rack" since puberty, my breasts get more than their share of ogling. Naturally, I find unwanted stares to be really annoying, to put it mildly, so I deliberately try to lessen the impact of my cleavage by buying Minimizer bras, which cost upwards of $30 each. They’re worth it, however, as they really do make those speed bumps look smaller, and they actually last a good long while. My mammalian mountains would wear out those $10 Wal-Mart things within a month.

Anyway, I wasn’t sure what size to get. I was properly measured for the right size many years ago, and I’ve stuck to that size ever since, but the larger booby kept growing. For some time now it has been pretending to be cookie dough, and keeps popping out in front and on the side. So, to get a new bra that fit, I had to brave the wilds of the Changing Room.

Is it just me or do department store changing rooms amplify all of our insecurities? It’s weird just trying on blouses and stuff in there, but bras? I’m no prude, but it almost feels like a form of exhibitionism, stripping down your upper half, technically in public. What’s worse is if you’re in one of those cubicles struggling to stuff an uncooperative lump of flesh into an article designed specifically for restriction. No wonder I hate shopping for bras.

Well, I discovered that the large breast had outgrown my "old" bra size, so I tried the next size up – it fit better, but then I had all this extra room on the other side. Sheez! There’s nothing like feeling lopsided after wrestling with yourself. I compromised, and increased the cup size instead. That helped. It’s still not a perfect fit, but it is better than before. They also had a sale going on, so the total price was less than I’d expected (score!).

Satisfied with my purchase, I headed home. I pulled one of the new bras out of the bag yesterday in preparation for wearing it today…and found the “anti-theft” device was still attached. Oh, MAAAAAN. Now I have to go back to the store. :p