FRIDAY 55
Brassiere
Titsling
Over the Shoulder Boulder Holder
Foundational Garment
Hooter Hugger
Intimates
Unmentionables
Torture Device
Underwires
Demi-cup
Strapless
Padded
Peekaboo
Push-up
Convertible
Long-line
Balconet
Nursing
Soft-cup
Molded
18 Hour Cross Your Heart
I don't care what kind it is or where I have to shop for them,
bra shopping is a complete torment.
I HATE IT!
DA COUNT
Brassiere
Titsling
Over the Shoulder Boulder Holder
Foundational Garment
Hooter Hugger
Intimates
Unmentionables
Torture Device
Underwires
Demi-cup
Strapless
Padded
Peekaboo
Push-up
Convertible
Long-line
Balconet
Nursing
Soft-cup
Molded
18 Hour Cross Your Heart
I don't care what kind it is or where I have to shop for them,
bra shopping is a complete torment.
I HATE IT!
DA COUNT
Perhaps you recall this rant about a particularly annoying trip to Victoria's Secret. That place, more than any other, makes bra shopping a torturous process. Even if by some stroke of luck I should find a bra that fits I will need a second mortgage to afford it. I am well past the stage of being able to work some flimsy, cutesy bit of lace and hooks either to my advantage or even to the point of socially acceptable containment. On to the hydraulics! However, I still want something that doesn't look like it came out of my grandmother's drawer and I don't want it to require a loan for purchase either. You'd think I am asking for the world. All I want is a properly supportive, reasonably nice looking, affordable bra that permits me to breathe and not feel like it has spikes embedded in it.
Because of past failures and frustrations, I generally wait until the old set has all but fallen apart before I go looking for replacements. Case in point, I wore my old nursing bras until Isaac was 6 because I really didn't want to deal with the whole bra shopping torment. I assure you it's not because I was breastfeeding my 6 year old. He was weaned at 18 months.
Ok, so the time has come for some new hydraulics to lift and separate. I dread it. However, one day the Limelettes wanted me to take them to TJ Maxx. While they were busy dashing back and forth to the fitting rooms I decided to wander over to the lingerie section, which I have avoided in the past because generally it's a couple of racks in tangled disarray of straps and cups. I started idly going through the mess. Oh look, my size! This is a miracle in and of itself. Mine is not a size I can often find. Oh look, another one, and another, and another. Holy cow, a 4 bras in my size! I am guardedly optimistic as I trot off to the fitting room with 4 bras in my size that are each on sale. Try them on and find 3 out of the 4 fit, do the job, and look not half bad. Ya know, I think if Janita, my formerly demolished left wrist, had been willing I may have cartwheeled to the checkout counter. And the total price for three miracles was under the price of a single torment sold at Victoria's Secret.
Because of past failures and frustrations, I generally wait until the old set has all but fallen apart before I go looking for replacements. Case in point, I wore my old nursing bras until Isaac was 6 because I really didn't want to deal with the whole bra shopping torment. I assure you it's not because I was breastfeeding my 6 year old. He was weaned at 18 months.
Ok, so the time has come for some new hydraulics to lift and separate. I dread it. However, one day the Limelettes wanted me to take them to TJ Maxx. While they were busy dashing back and forth to the fitting rooms I decided to wander over to the lingerie section, which I have avoided in the past because generally it's a couple of racks in tangled disarray of straps and cups. I started idly going through the mess. Oh look, my size! This is a miracle in and of itself. Mine is not a size I can often find. Oh look, another one, and another, and another. Holy cow, a 4 bras in my size! I am guardedly optimistic as I trot off to the fitting room with 4 bras in my size that are each on sale. Try them on and find 3 out of the 4 fit, do the job, and look not half bad. Ya know, I think if Janita, my formerly demolished left wrist, had been willing I may have cartwheeled to the checkout counter. And the total price for three miracles was under the price of a single torment sold at Victoria's Secret.
