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12:15 pm: My Savage Breasts
It's official, y'all: my boobs require their own zip code.



In college, I had a boyfriend who was a boob man. Actually, that seems like much too mild a statement, sort of like calling a lifelong three-packs-a-day smoker a dabbler in the nicotine arts. He just...he really loved big boobs. So when I'd buy a new bra, he'd come over and gloat. "Wow, four hooks! You're HUGE!" he'd say enthusiastically, and I'd want to hurt him.

Thank god I didn't marry him. Thank you, thank you, thank you, god. Because if he'd been here today, he'd be writhing on the floor right now, while I stood over him and said, "Wow! How convenient! Your balls just detach!"

See, I'm in one of my annual "OMG why are all the clothes gone?" buying fits - basically, I would never shop for clothes ever under any circumstances if it was not for the fact that the old ones wear themselves out without my permission - and bras are a critical element of this annual festival of pain.

So I was looking at bra fitting advice - because typically my bras don't actually, um, fit all that well - and I saw this piece of information:

"If your cup seam doesn't lie flat against your breastbone, you need to go up in cup size."

And I was like, "Who the FUCK has a cup seam that lies flat against her breastbone?" I very nearly posted here, asking you to go check yourselves out in the mirror wearing your best fitting bras, but fortunately saner heads prevailed. But I did some, uh, not very covert local observation, and I discovered: other women really don't have magically projecting cups. Their cups snug right up to their bodies and nestle down for the winter.

So, with much reluctance, I got a tape measure and actually measured myself.

This is something where - okay. If I could've chosen to pay $150 to have a stranger in another town measure herself, and that would've worked, I would totally have done that. It is worth $150 to me not to have to take a tape measure to my own body. But, tragically, that technology hasn't been perfected yet. I had no choice but to whip out the ol' tape.

And, like, wow. I never have measured myself for a bra before, but I would say the instructions I was given were slightly inaccurate. I would write them thusly:
  1. Measure around your chest just below your breasts.

  2. Measure around the fullest part of your breasts.

  3. Subtract the first measurement from the second.

  4. Memorize or write down the resultant number.

  5. Bop cheerfully over to the computer and look at the sizing chart.

  6. Cry.
Because according to the sizing chart, my boobs - well, as I said: they needed their own zip code. See, I've been going up in band size, because I assumed my bras didn't fit because I'm fat. But according to the sizing chart, my old band size is actually too high, and my bra problem is that my boobs are fat. Very, very fat.

But I know better than to believe what I read on the internet, so I went down one from the recommended cup size (and that was, yes, still larger than the bras I've been buying) and bought two bras in that, figuring I could publicly mock the sizing chart when they proved to be too big.

They came today. They fit better than any bra I've ever owned. It's pretty clear that if I went up a cup size, they'd fit perfectly.

And that is...that sucks. Because I was already out of the pretty bra range, where you can have things like bows and prints and frolicky cotton. When you switch the little size box to my old size, the color box goes down to just four: white, black, navy, and beige.

But now. But NOW. The size I apparently actually am - when you switch to that, you get just black and white. And the only bras that come in my size at all are what you might call Extreme Ordnance bras - like, these things are not so much sewn as they are constructed. By bridge engineers. Out of high-performance steel. Their general design message is, "Whoa, girl. What have you got in there, watermelons?"

One of the bras I got today has SIX hooks. SIX. And it's a cup size too small! The actual proper size is probably going to have GIRDERS.

I can just picture my college boyfriend's unbridled glee at that piece of news.

I kind of wish he was here, actually. Then at least someone would be delighted at the news. Plus, I would be able to be mad at him, and that would make me feel better.

But he's not. So I'm just posting a little note to say: if you want to send something to me, I'll be at the old address. But if you want to send something to either of my boobs, well, I'm going to have to call the post office. Because there's just not room in this zip code for all three of us.

Comments

[User Picture]
From:basingstoke
Date:June 15th, 2006 05:26 am (UTC)
(Link)
Go to the front page and click on "search by size." They have it, I swear! G isn't that bad. :)

I definitely commisserate, though. When I was 18 or so, I was a DDD cup, not so big really, but pushing the limits of what you can buy in stores. I made the trek into the big mall in the next town and went to Victoria's Secret, thinking I could maybe find something pretty.

Well, I walked in, looked around for a minute or so, and then asked a clerk (possibly the owner, actually) for my size. She looked at me like I was CRAZY INSANE and said "DDD?!?!??! You will have to have that custom made! Very expensive!"

I was like. Bitch. Here I am, almost a child, and you're treating me like a freak for having large breasts in a goddamn BRA SHOP?

Victoria's Secret is on my permanent shit list. That's just not kosher. Period.

Anyway, the point is, you're NOT alone--just look at this thread!--US underwear culture is retarded, and I swear to Bob there are pretty bras in your size out there. :)
[User Picture]
From:the_wanlorn
Date:June 15th, 2006 06:27 am (UTC)
(Link)
Augh. My mum sings praises about Victoria's Secret and how wonderful they are and how she finally has bras that fit and why don't I go there to buy bras?

"Because they don't HAVE 44DDs there, Mum."

"Oh, but you're probably really smaller! Just go and have them size you!"

I walked in and the lady working there (who was very very nice) took one look at me and told me that they didn't carry bras in my cup size, never mind band size.
[User Picture]
From:littera_abactor
Date:June 15th, 2006 06:55 am (UTC)
(Link)
Oh, criminy. I had exactly that experience at a Victoria's Secret. I went in with a boyfriend (the college bf Boob Man, actually) because he wanted to buy me something pretty, and I was already fairly dubious, but when I told the saleswoman my size, she looked at my boobs like they were made of dog shit and said, "Oh, god. I don't think they make them that big. You could try one of the stores for, um, large ladies, I guess."

I was 16. I was body conscious. And I wore a fucking 34DD. I was not Boobzilla! (Then. I was actually at the start of my birth control pill spurred Boobzilla growth phase; if I could go back in time, I would whap me upside the head and say DIAPHRAGM, HONEY. The hormones made my boobs grow and grow and all but sprout wings.)

Thank god for the boyfriend, who stared straight at her concave chest and said, "Or we could maybe go talk to someone who actually has breasts." And then we got the hell out of there.

*still bitter, though*
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