About 3 months ago I finally admitted to myself that I absolutely MUST buy new bras. I work em hard and, truth be told, they were probably needing to retire 2-3 months prior to that even. Bra shopping ranks way past jeans shopping and is somewhere akin to getting a mammogram, (in fact, I think I’d rather opt for the mammogram) and so I put off the bra safari. After spending the better part of the summer reaching down into my bra to pick up my ill supported tatas and readjusting the straps only for the little plastic thing to just slide back down, I went out today to do the deed.
My sons, God bless em, wanted to go to the mall. They had money saved and wanted to spend some of it at the Lego store. I gave a fair warning and told them what I would be shopping for.
“That’s ok. We’ll just sit out on the benches like the other men do,” Buddy said.
I headed straight for Victoria’s Secret, as that was the bra I already owned. About a year or two ago they started supplying DDD in store. This was a huge deal as I always had to order by catalog before. I went straight for the same style bra that I already had and grabbed my size, 36DDD, and then asked to be let into a dressing room.
The VS dressing room has changed since I last shopped a year or two ago… Now the doors are black with hot pink trim and each door has a name plait on it: Bombshell, Supermodel, Startlet, etc. I was ushered into the Bombshell changing room.
As quickly as I could and avoiding looking at myself in the mirror, I changed into the new bra. Strangely, it did not fit. My back spilled out of the top and squished out of the bottom. In the front I had some major pitty titty puffing out and my breasts were rising out of the top of the cup as well. I tried re-adjusting the straps and the back clasps but it was not working. Angry, I tore off the offensive thing, slid back into my soggy strapped bra and t-shirt (again avoiding the mirror) and exited the Bombshell changing room.
I then grabbed a 38DDD. Back in the changing area I waited for a room to come available to me. I kind of wanted to claw the labels on the doors off.
Screw you and your unattainable goals Victoria’s Secret!
This time I was put in the Supermodel room.
Once in the bra I glowered at my “Supermodel” body. 5’00”, size 10-ish, 150lb-20 lbs-is-probably-the-boobs body. The only thing the new size did was further confirm my hatred for VS and their pink crap. I resigned to hit the department store.
I hate department store bras. They’re so industrial. I don’t feel pretty in an ugly blah bra. Plus they only ever seem to have white, nude and black as the color choices.
As I headed down the corridor toward Nordstrom, I saw Soma. A friend had recommended them to me before because they have larger cups.
The boys, very graciously, took a seat outside once again.
Another woman and her husband/boyfriend walked in with me. Sales clerks quickly approached and welcomed us.
“What size bra do you need?”
“36DDD,” we both answered.
I stole a look at the other patron. Her knockers were HUGE and sat high on her chest, taught and bought. I was worried that the straps of her cami were going to pop.
“And what are you looking for in a bra?” we were asked.
“Um. Support,” I said. I mean, isn’t that what they’re for?
“I need something that doesn’t show when I wear something low cut but also that keeps in the side boob,” they other said. “You know, something that will look good when I’m wearing work clothes.”
Maybe not buying DDD breasts that cradle your chin would give you the professional look you are shooting for…
“Have you been fitted with us before?”
“No, but I have at other places and I’m a 36DDD,” I assured my sales clerk.
“OK, well why don’t we try this bra here then…”
She picked out an industrial, department store looking bra (There was some pretty lace. Some.) and then escorted the bra and I to the dressing room.
“My name is Linda if you need anything,” she said as she turned the bra over to me. “I’ll be right outside the door,” she promised.
Second verse same as the first, I got in and out of the bras as quickly as possible.
“How’s it going in there?” Linda cheerfully asked.
It was going…badly. Again with the spilling out of the cup, the sides and the back. Linda asked to see how “things” were fitting.
“Oh yeah…I really think you would benefit from a fitting. Our line may fit you different.”
And so she measured under my boobs and across the boobs.
“Mmhm…looks like you are actually a 36G…”she assessed.
I don’t think I said anything. I can’t remember. I think I was stunned. I mean, I know I’ve gained some weight but then wouldn’t that mean the number would get bigger and not the cup?
I hate boobs.
Linda left me in the dressing room oozing out of the too small bra and staring bitterly at my old bra. She looked awful hanging there by her straps, the elastic exhausted from over use, a small wine stain on one of the cups. (Whatever. Don’t judge me.)
Why couldn’t you last? You were so comfy… Why can’t you last more than 1 year? Or was it 2…?
Linda returned with one 36G. I tried it on and it did fit better but I did not care for the style. The straps were the size of maxi pads and just as thickly padded. The back strap was wide enough for a six lane highway. Not only that but there was nothing very feminine about it. Nothing pretty. No lace. One little satin ribbon between the cleavage that I’m sure to get a salsa or wine stain on. (Oh please! I know it’s happened to you too!)
“Ill be right back with another that you may like!” and she zipped away.
It was taking awhile for her to return. I was getting uncomfortable standing there topless for so long, so I put my old bra and t shirt on and went out to look for the style of bra I’d like myself. Another sales clerk was by my side faster than, I don’t know what.
“Is everything working out for you? I believe Linda was taking care of you?”
“Yes, she is but I just thought I’d come and look for myself instead of trying on one bra at a time. My sons are sitting outside waiting for me…”
“Oh, sure! I understand. What size are you looking for?” she asked (rather loudly, if you ask me. I mean, the Man of Professional Tata Lady turned around for my answer.)
“36G,” I said in what I hoped was loud enough for HER to hear but not….that guy. Why doesn’t he go sit on the bench out there with the other guys?
“OH…Those are in the back,” she whispered.
Evidently, they don’t put bras that size out on the rack. Apparently, the Hideous Ginormous are kept in the recessed parts of the store. Like all disgusting creatures, they are hidden from public view.
Linda immerged from the dungeon with ONE other bra in 36G for me to try.
“Are there other styles? I mean, could you just bring them all to me so I don’t have to do one at a time?” I asked.
“Oh sure! I think there’s one or two more… I’ll go check!” she said excitedly as she dove back into the bowels of the store.
In the end I had 3 choices of bra styles in my size. I resigned on a mono-toned, lightly padded lace bra. The straps were only the width of suspenders.
“What colors does it come in?” I dared to ask.
“White, nude, black and navy.”
I was pretty stoked that there was another color option besides the standard white, nude or black.
“I’ll take a nude, navy and black one.”
While Linda went back down into the lair of Hideous Ginormous, I peeked out into the mall corridor to reassure the boys that I was almost finished.
“FINALLY!” they exclaimed in exasperation.
Back at the register Linda came out with a grim expression.
“I’m so sorry but we don’t have any more in black. I can order you one though and it will be shipped to your home for free!”
“How long will that take?” I asked.
“About a week,” she said.
Linda set to work on ordering my black bra. I looked at the register next to me where another lady was buying a bra in a beautiful Tiffany blue with black polka dots and a black lace sling around each little D cup. How pretty the delicate black straps with their black lace accents will be on her slender shoulders. They will prettily show when she wears her cami’s.
“I’m so sorry…” Linda interrupted me from my Titty Envy, “…they seem to be all out of the black in that size and style.”
“You can call back in a few weeks and see if they get anymore in stock,” she suggested.
“Yeah. I’ll do that.”
I purchased the other two (at least I got a navy blue one!) and fought tears as I left the store, marching right past my sons.
“Mom! Wait! What’s wrong?” they asked.
“I’m so sorry! I was frustrated.”
“What took so long?”
So now I wait for Soma as they try to gather enough black spandex and lace to make me a Hideous Ginormous.
“I saw a news report that said there’s a spandex shortage,” Caren said.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, apparently so many stay at home moms walk around in work out gear all the time that they’re running out.”
“Shit. Those women are wearing my black bra.”
“My pants could make you a couple.”
“Hey…yeah… If your spandex shorts go missing… Oo! Those biker ones of yours even have padding!”
“I don’t think you want any extra padding…”
“For the maxi pad straps and to hide nipples. Colorado is cold.”
I text Man when I got home:
“Finally went bra shopping. 36G. These are the last bras I will ever buy in this size. Breast Reduction is nigh.”