A few weeks ago, I sucked up my body issues and marched into Victoria’s. After my weight gain and subsequent weight loss, I have been residing in bra limbo. The fat bras are too big; the skinny bras remain a smidge tight – that’s what the final five pounds desperately clinging to my body will do.
I subjected myself to getting fitted. Yes, I let the pencil thin Vickie’s sales girl attack me with her measuring tape. I had been dreading it due the unknown of it all. Pre-weight gain, I was a 34B. I liked being a 34B – I could run around without a bra on and not look too gross. As you can tell, I am not a fan of hauling around big knockers. A padded bra is quite alright by me.
She measured everything twice, then a third time, which only added to my dread. “Well, you are between sizes.” Great! Story of my life any more… damn you, you five pounds! “I think you would do best in a 34C as opposed to a 36B.”
Did she say 34C? The heavens opened ever so slightly sending down a teensy ray of hope… 34 is part of my world again! 34C is close enough to 34B for me these days. My dread has lifted. I bought a bunch of bras with my 5 year old Vicki’s gift certificate – a remnant from my bridal shower returns.
Having bras that truly fit again is a wondrous thing. Opening my bra drawer every morning and actually having choices is sublime. Some sort of switch flipped in this experience and in a small way I am ok with that part of my body now. And depending on how things go on The Southern Gentleman’s upcoming holiday, some of those bras and panties may just see the light of day…