My jr. high school classmate Niner is off bra shopping today, which got me to thinking about the last time I dared to do the same. Bra shopping, for me, is like entering the vast realm of the unknown. Scary.
A few years ago I was at Towne East Mall in Wichita purchasing new eyeglasses after my cataract surgery, had some time to kill, so I mustered up the courage to stroll over to Victoria's Secret, the top of the line in looking slutty, to check out the latest in sexy lingerie. The key to a good fit would be to get an accurate bust measurement, I was told by the young store clerk, so she grabbed the tape measure, I raised my arms, and she went about her work.
"32-A," she announced to the store after wrapping the tape around me in several strategic places.
I laughed. "You've GOT to be wrong! I haven't been a 32-A since I was in 7th grade. I've been wearing a 34-C for years."
"Well, that's what the tape measure says your bra size should be," she said, reluctant to get into a shouting match with me over such tiny, trivial tits.
So, I selected some lovely, lacy 32-A bras just to prove her wrong and headed to the dressing room. I was right. My breathing/laughter was restricted as I checked the mirror and found bulging boob blubber hanging out over the bra and shoved up into my armpits. It was too disgusting to show the sales clerk.
"Trust me," I told her, returning to the rack, "I'm NOT a 32-A."
Everyone else in Victoria's Secret appeared to be about 1/2 my age or younger, so I decided I should mosey over to Dillard's, where perhaps bras were sized for the modern, mature gal. I located a sales clerk and kindly asked her to measure me.
"32-A," she said.
"What?" I was incredulous. "That can't be right!" Surely she must have been in cahoots with the Victoria's Secret clerk. It was a conspiracy against me.
I gave her the same song and dance about how a 32-A was way too small for me but went ahead and grabbed a few bras in that size, just in case Dillard's boulder holders fit differently than the foxy ones at Madame Secret.
They didn't. The mirror revealed the same tight fit, squishing boob fat everywhere.
I decided that the scientific process of breast measuring must be affected by the mysterious "Sag Factor X" that comes with advancing age. It's a variable that the sales ladies are not taught in lingerie school. For every three years over 50, add one inch and one letter to the bra size...regardless of what the tape measure indicates. That should compensate for the attempt to uplift all the middle-age droop.
I'm happy to say that I did end up making a bra purchase that day. At Wal-Mart. No measuring allowed. Size 34-C. Since retiring, however, my favorite bra size is no size at all. Pull up a stretchy tube top and away I go. No straps, no snaps, no overflow issues that cause alarm. It's the official Flaming Bore's Secret, so don't tell anyone.
4 comments:
That happened to me when I was buying clothes for the xmas party. I totally know where you are coming from. And its the most uncomfortable bra I have ever bought, and most expensive!
I have never had them measure me, and now I probably never will. They say it works with the tape measure, but I say if you find something that works. Buy plenty and never look back.
Oh, this was too funny!! I despise bra shopping also! I'm too chicken to let a strange girl size me up at the store. So, I've found a size & a brand that are bearable, & I stock up!
I recently lost some weight, naturally it was in my boobs the one place my husband said, no shrinkage! I mail order everything by computer so had a time with the Just My Size website which explains how to measure. My quest currently involves getting a supportive smoosh bra, otherwise known as a sports bra. Breathing seems necesary during exercise and since I go to a gym, it also needs to be presentable, preferably with nipple camoflauge. I like the T-back ones the best. But my favorite thing is the swimsuit that has a cup size. The sag factor is just disgusting anymore. Where did perky go???
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