Adventures in Bra Shopping

by Mermaid Nixie November 08, 2017 23 Comments

I went bra shopping today. 

It was as I was struggling into the first bra that I realized that this is the activity that makes me feel the worst about my body. It's bad enough that I wear bras way longer than I need to because I gauge my need to buy a new bra against how much I want to be waterboarded.

It's not just because the whole activity starts with me taking off my shirt in front of a full-length mirror and having to see my stomach which is roughly the same color and texture as cottage cheese.

Then you take your bra off and you stare at your breasts for a moment before you think, "When was the last time I did a self-breast exam? Was it the last time I went bra shopping? Yes, yes it was."

So, now I'm standing in the cubicle doing the breast exam thing because I will not remember later and Sales Associate asks me if everything is fitting okay. 

I swear to all that is holy I've been in this room for less than 5 minutes. I only seem to come to this store when there are no other people or so many that I can't find a single human to help me. "Everything is fine!" I call, trying to see if that's a lump or a pimple. It's a pimple.

Finally, I start with my favorite bra. Of course, it is not the most beautiful bra in the store because, despite the fact that I am shopping in a boutique that caters to my size, the bra I am most attracted to only goes up to a DD. No, I have the second most beautiful in the store. It's similar to the one I wanted, but not quite the same.

So, I slip it on, and I realize that it has been made out of a revolutionary new fabric constructed from porcupine quills and cactus spines. Despite this, I try to convince myself that this will make me feel beautiful and that fabric softener will make it less like being in a modern iron maiden (not the band, the one with the spikes).

Finally, I decide that I'm just not willing to take that chance. Famously, the best bra I've ever bought had a bottom lacey edge that I discovered had been constructed out of razor blades and shards of glass. I was so sad when I had to return it, despite the fact that my ribcage looked like the Demogorgon had tried to eat me.

I start in on the "normal" bras which are usually T-Shirt bras with lace sewn on them. And that's when I remember, "My right boob is bigger than my left boob." 

CURSE YOU RIGHT BOOB.

Finally, I get a bra on that's soft, and I'm like, "Why is there an inch between my nipple and the end of the bra? I picked the size I was already wearing."

I do that thing where you reach into the bra and drag your tits around the inside. Up makes Right Boob pudgy looking. And down makes a 4-inch gap appear at the top of the cups. I'm sweating and almost in tears, and I finally realize, the bra I'm wearing was bought on clearance

For some reason, my real size is never available on clearance, so I bought the "sister size". You know, that thing where you buy one band size up and one cup size down? Well, that's why these aren't working. So, I slip my shirt on over my weird fitting bra and go find my actual size.

Sales Associate magically appears next to me as I look for a 40H. "I would have been happy to get a new size for you," she says in a chirpy voice.

I mean, that would have been great, but I didn't want to scream for help from my dressing room and then describe that I wanted the "blue geometrical pattern with lace on the bottom outside of the cup, not the blue geometrical pattern with lace on the top inside of the cup."

So, I go back to the dressing room and start to try on the correct size. I struggle to hook it in the back. I figure the straps are too tight and loosen them. The hook still won't work. My thumbs are cramping, and the crazy in my brain says, "Did I forget how to hook a bra?"

So I turn it around and start to do that thing you do when you're 13 and you hook the bra in the front and turn it around. That's when I find out the loop I've been trying to hook into is broken. 

I groan. It must have been loud because Sales Associate shows up outside the door to ask what's wrong. Holding the door open exactly 2 inches, I show her the problem and ask for another bra that size. 

Finally, I actually try on a bra that fits. By now, I feel like I have to buy this one because it's covered in sweat. Luckily, I like how it looks.

In the end, I found two new bras, and according to my FitBit, I got over an hour of exercise in today!



Mermaid Nixie

Author



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