witzend
Well-Known Member
I have always been a Skinny Minnie. Even when I was a size 14 I was skinny, because I was tall. Or so people told me...
I was always as flat-chested as could be, and poor as could be as a kid. It was the 1970's and no one wore a bra. Luckily, having been flat chested, my hoo-haws aren't hanging down to my navel right now.
A few weeks after L was born, the local big department store had a segment on a morning show about their lingerie department having a bra fitter, and that there were much more flattering bras and that even under-endowed women could look good. I was nursing and had a little something and I thought, "Cool! I can fit into a bra now!" So, I went down to Meier & Frank and stood there in the Lingerie Department waiting for this woman to fit me for a bra.
This old broad comes over with her tape measure, and wraps it around my rib cage. That was it. She says in this horrible loud nasal voice "Oh Honey! You ain't got nothin'! You go over to the little girl's department and get yourself a training bra!" Needless to say, Meier & Frank didn't make a bra sale to me that day. Or ever.
Over the years, I have endeared myself to the Wonderbra and the Miraclebra. But lately - ten years or so - I have been having problems because of my crooked shoulders with one bra strap always falling down. I've gotten to the point that I only wore strapless bras. Except then the entire bra falls to my belly button and I'm stooping over trying to keep it where it counts. So today I grin and bear it for my annual trek to whatever place has a decent bra. I'm hoping that a 34 B isn't too optimistic and I don't have to get that training bra. I figure I'm going to treat myself to Victoria's Secret. They'll take care of me!
I go in and try on a bra that the girl recommends. It's awful. Rolls of blubber hanging out of my armpits. She gives me a little pink piece of paper and literally sends me out of the door. I stop and grab two more and try again. It's just as bad. So I grin and bear it and head out the door to my car which is parked outside the Nordstrom Lingerie Department. I figure, "What the heck? If they don't have anything I won't buy it."
I try on this little bandaid thing that is supposed to work out great with "those problem tops that never look good" - all of them. More blubber. Finally the girl says "have you had a fitting lately?" Nope. So, we do the tape measure. She says I need a 32. Ok... I have lost weight lately. In fact I weigh only 13 pounds more than I did 30 years ago. Eventually I end up with this older lady bringing me bras, and I'm trying them on right and left. She's telling me to "bend over and shake your breasts so they will fit in." We find one that fits, and it's a 32 D! OMG! WT Heck? I chuckled all the way to the cash register, and had to tell them the story of the fitter in Meier & Frank. And I have a beautiful bra (that cost an arm and a leg but at least I know my size now) and makes me look wonderful!
So, if you feel rotten in your bra, go to the fancy schmancy department store and have a fitting. I'd been sour-pussing it all week because of M, and the day started out badly with the Victoria's Secret deal. (They're all little girls who don't know how to fit a bra, by the way.) But now, I'm a beautiful, happy, grown up woman with a D cup! Woo - hoo!
And I came home and made brownies...
I was always as flat-chested as could be, and poor as could be as a kid. It was the 1970's and no one wore a bra. Luckily, having been flat chested, my hoo-haws aren't hanging down to my navel right now.
A few weeks after L was born, the local big department store had a segment on a morning show about their lingerie department having a bra fitter, and that there were much more flattering bras and that even under-endowed women could look good. I was nursing and had a little something and I thought, "Cool! I can fit into a bra now!" So, I went down to Meier & Frank and stood there in the Lingerie Department waiting for this woman to fit me for a bra.
This old broad comes over with her tape measure, and wraps it around my rib cage. That was it. She says in this horrible loud nasal voice "Oh Honey! You ain't got nothin'! You go over to the little girl's department and get yourself a training bra!" Needless to say, Meier & Frank didn't make a bra sale to me that day. Or ever.
Over the years, I have endeared myself to the Wonderbra and the Miraclebra. But lately - ten years or so - I have been having problems because of my crooked shoulders with one bra strap always falling down. I've gotten to the point that I only wore strapless bras. Except then the entire bra falls to my belly button and I'm stooping over trying to keep it where it counts. So today I grin and bear it for my annual trek to whatever place has a decent bra. I'm hoping that a 34 B isn't too optimistic and I don't have to get that training bra. I figure I'm going to treat myself to Victoria's Secret. They'll take care of me!
I go in and try on a bra that the girl recommends. It's awful. Rolls of blubber hanging out of my armpits. She gives me a little pink piece of paper and literally sends me out of the door. I stop and grab two more and try again. It's just as bad. So I grin and bear it and head out the door to my car which is parked outside the Nordstrom Lingerie Department. I figure, "What the heck? If they don't have anything I won't buy it."
I try on this little bandaid thing that is supposed to work out great with "those problem tops that never look good" - all of them. More blubber. Finally the girl says "have you had a fitting lately?" Nope. So, we do the tape measure. She says I need a 32. Ok... I have lost weight lately. In fact I weigh only 13 pounds more than I did 30 years ago. Eventually I end up with this older lady bringing me bras, and I'm trying them on right and left. She's telling me to "bend over and shake your breasts so they will fit in." We find one that fits, and it's a 32 D! OMG! WT Heck? I chuckled all the way to the cash register, and had to tell them the story of the fitter in Meier & Frank. And I have a beautiful bra (that cost an arm and a leg but at least I know my size now) and makes me look wonderful!
So, if you feel rotten in your bra, go to the fancy schmancy department store and have a fitting. I'd been sour-pussing it all week because of M, and the day started out badly with the Victoria's Secret deal. (They're all little girls who don't know how to fit a bra, by the way.) But now, I'm a beautiful, happy, grown up woman with a D cup! Woo - hoo!
And I came home and made brownies...