Friday, June 20, 2008

It's all fun & games, till somebody loses an eye...

Before I share my afternoon with you, it's important to make it clear that I hate shopping for clothes, shoes, anything that might possibly land me in a mall. In fact, I'm not generally a big fan of shopping as a recreational activity in any way shape or form (yarn stores, indie bookstores, and funky thrift stores being the exceptions). Usually, it's more of a necessary evil, to be eased by the judicious consumption of gin. Or tequila.

Finding (much-needed) new footwear and a new summer top the other day was thus quite an accomplishment for me. But the new summer top highlighted another need I've been trying not to think about for some time: a new bra.

I hate the damned things anyway, first thing I do when I get home is take it off, already. I've managed to get by for quite some time on a couple of light-support "sports" bras (though they'd really only be good for yoga, nothing with any kind of impact!). But as much as I wanted to deny it, it was past time. Ugh.

I decided that today was the day to get it over with. I fortified myself with coffee, put on my snazzy new sandals for a self-esteem boost, tried to remember everything I ever read in O about proper bra sizing, and I headed down to Sears.

Where I spent two hours trying on a million different damned rickin-frackin' bras. Trying to find something without scratchy lace or pokey underwires or of the "push-up" variety that would shove my bosom up around my throat and choke me. Something simple, practical, that didn't feel or look like a straitjacket. After all that, I found one single, solitary style that I could imagine wearing for more than 90 seconds. One. Needless to say, it came home with me.

And I have to say, after years of those not-so-great sports bras, and the cumulative effects of gravity....put my gals in a well-fitting bra, and my word! They're so perky! It's kind of funny. I keep looking down and - whoa! Where did those come from?! I'm feeling quite pleased with myself.

(Mr.Q, in his infinite wisdom and sensitivity, commented: "You'd better be careful, you might put somebody's eye out with those things." Stinker.)


no-blog-rachel said...

Too funny. One good side benefit of the weight gain I've been bitching about is that for the first time ever, I have cleavage. Moderate, but definitely there. My husband refers to it as my ginormous rack. What a guy. He and Mr. Q should hang out - they seem to share a perverse sense of humor. Though I suppose it would be a bitch of a drive.

Anonymous said...

Welcome to my world!


Sarah, Grand-Dutchess of Serendipity said...

haven't personally found the contraption that will actually make these puppies stand to attention without bursting at the seams. I heard there is a great mistress of bras in nelson. Gonna check her out soon as I get a chance.

Rebecca said...

Too familiar! I actually broke down and found one when I was in Utah last month. I hadn't bought any for several years. I hate shopping for anything except for yarn and books. I don't even like grocery shopping. But I do feel all strapped in and nicely supported in my new bra.

diann said...

I'm rather like minded about shopping in general, and prefer on-line shopping. I also prefer racer-back bras whenever possible - and they are hard to find. BUT, I just ordered some from Lands End (on-line, delivered to my door, no questions asked if I return items) and they are wonderful! Cotton knit, racerback, underwires, front hook...and comfortable. Next order will be for regular bras, I think.

Ari said...

I would like shopping - if people carried things that I actually like. Bra shopping is a huge pain in my @$$ - mainly b/c of the salespeople! One lady tried to convince me that I was a cup-size larger and 2 inches rounder than I actually am! She didn't believe me until I modeled the bra for her...but I love wearing new bras - I feel special!

Barb said...

I'm STILL searching. I bought these two expensive and very pretty bras with MEMORY FOAM --because my breasts have such poor short-term memories. But, dude, I keep feeling like I have a SHELF out in front. Like I need someone to come put a potted plant on me and them I'll be properly camouflaged and unlikely to die of embarrassment.

Well, you know, maybe.