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July 13, 2005

38D (Yeah, it's kind of about boobs again)

I’m finally starting to fit into some of my cuter more dainty bras. These bras don’t have straps that are 5 inches thick. My old ones looked like something a hospital would use to sling patients from that jungle gym looking contraption when they had broken their whole bodies. They could comfortably form to and support someone of a “healthy” weight's butt (correction: make that a healthy middle aged, man. Ex-line backer to be specific).

I’m excited to sift through and try on all these cute bras. It will have to be trial and error because I had cut the tags out of them. I was embarrassed and afraid that someone would see my size. Most of my girlfriends wore size 34 and I hated being a 36. Now I’m a 38. I would lie about my bra size all the time, more so than any other article of clothing. Yup, my friends and I loved talking about our boobies and the great Secrets Victoria was keeping. (How I hate that place, I’ve never even looked good in a robe from there.) I’m pretty sure that all these bras span the time I was with the man who is currently my husband and he wouldn’t even know what those numbers mean. I probably cut those tags out so I could believe the lies I told my friends. Maybe I was paranoid they’d catch a glimpse of them in the locker room, my tags flapping around in the wind, warning of the Wide Load coming through. I don’t think I was being too paranoid, because we did (and still do) size each other up. Back then we were quite competitive.

I guess once I determine the bras that fit I’ll just appreciate that they don’t have the tags to distract from their sexy style.

Posted by hopeful @ July 13, 2005 5:00 PM