I Have a Brablem (Part One)

Elly LononCancer, Family & Home, The Book & Other Seriousness, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 49 Comments

Before we get started here, why don’t you stroll on over to Craftastrophe and check out my latest find.  It’ll put hair on your chest.  Literally.

Speaking of which, I’m going to mix it up, Interwebz.  Today, rather than talk about my vag as per usual, I’m going to talk about my boobs.  Who says I’m a one trick pony?!

That paragraph is not going to help with my disturbing pony search query epidemic, is it?

This week, I’m starting a new project that’s going to involve me interacting face to face with actual professional people in actual face to face situations.  Now, it’s been a while since I’ve interacted with corporate America, but as I recall it’s not really considered to show up in band t-shirts and yoga pants.  Come to think of it, that might have had something to do with my decision to leave it in the first place.

Back story for those of you that didn’t live through it with me – in May of 2008, I up and quit my job to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, hoping to start my own business.  I did one last event in London, then spent a month traveling around Europe and Africa with Rocco.  I came home in June with grand plans of personal trainers and blank canvases.  Then the coughing started.  Then it got worse.  Then we thought it was monkey pox.  (Mom still scolds me for playing with the Barbary Apes).  Then I had a chest xray…and the summer of leisure I had planned turned into the summer (and fall) of chemo.  I haven’t worked full time since.

As I was digging through the spring and summer clothes crammed underneath my bed in search of some appropriate office wear for this week, I realized I should be worrying more about the things that go under office clothes.  Camisoles and stretched out sports bras aren’t really appropriate – at least as I recall.  I did a quick tally in my head and realized I had not purchased a bra since 2005.  Since this post isn’t about the vag, I won’t tell you how long it’s been since I purchased underwear.

I’m cheap, Interwebz.  Well, I think frugal is a nicer word.  Rocco just says I’m ridiculous.  That’s because he’s a wild, spend-thrift Sagittarius.  I’m the product of a boy from rural Appalachia that put himself through Duke with a budget of $1 a day for food and a farm girl that paid her way through nurses training and smuggled Coors beer onto Air Force Bases for extra cash.  I come by it honest.

[Correction: I called Mom to confirm this beer story and she said, “You would NEVER part with Coors beer East of the Mississippi!  I brought that back for ME.  Oh write what you want.  I’m pretty sure the family has given up on reading about you and your vag.”]

Back to my boobs.  They needed to be tethered.  STAT.  And, though it pained me to admit it, I probably needed to suck it up and buy a few bras that didn’t come in a shrink-wrapped pack of six.

So I decided to try the whole Intimacy phenomenon.  I read a blog post from someone about a month ago describing the experience as “life changing.”  (Of course I’m a total ass and can’t remember who the hell it was now.  So thanks person that inspired me, even if I can’t remember who the hell you are.)  Also, every time I see Evil Jesus’ wife, she spends a solid seven minutes telling me how they completely changed her bra size and her outlook on life, all in a thirty minute appointment.  I mentioned to a girlfriend that I was thinking about doing it and she gushed, “I’m in.  Let’s go.”

Shit.  Now I was committed.  I made appointments and everything.

I spent easily twenty minutes trying to figure out the proper attire for such an appointment.  I didn’t have a single bra that I was comfortable with a stranger viewing, yet there was no chance in hell I was traipsing across town with an ace bandage for support.  I strapped on my least discolored/stretched-out cotton and pulled a long sleeved tee over my head.  “These bitches better have warm hands,” I thought to myself.

I met my girl and we checked in with the receptionist.  She handed us clipboards and what I can only describe as intake forms.  I’ve filled out less paperwork for medical procedures. This was the most daunting section:

Do you ever have problems with the following?
Bra straps falling down Band rises up and cuts into shoulder blades
Need more bust volume Need more support – not as firm as used to be
Underwire digging into breast tissue Finding styles to compliment your bustline
Straps dig into shoulder One breast larger than the other
Appearance of back fat Breast tissue comes out under underwire
Soft breast tissue – pendulous breast

Pendulous breasts?  No, I’ve never had one mistaken for a component in a grandfather clock, but thanks for asking.  Why wasn’t there a box for “Are you really lazy and have completely ignored your boob upkeep for half a decade?”

We handed in the forms and waited patiently, browsing the store.  Moments later, an extremely cheerful woman named Nicole escorted me into the back hallway filled with tiny rooms and uncomfortably large mirrors.  Of course I couldn’t stop looking at her boobs.  She worked at Intimacy’s for the love of God.  Her boobs should have the ultimate in support and style, right?  I mean, people that work at a Lexus dealership don’t drive Yugo‘s, right?  (Hell, they could for all I know.  I don’t even know if Yugo’s still exist.  I’m not going to Google it and lose another 29 minutes of my life for you people.  I’m a working gal now.  Feel free to report back if you’re more industrious than I am.)

“So, have you ever been to Intimacy before?” Nicole bubbled as she crammed into the small dressing room with me, her blond pony tail bobbing almost as rapidly as her long lashes blinked.  I unconsciously covered crossed my arms over my boobs and shook my head no.  “Ok!  Well!  We take a holistic approach to bra fitting here and…”

“Holistic?” I asked.  “What does that mean?  You aren’t going to rub patchouli on my girls and give them shots of wheat grass are you?”  I moved subtly towards the door, grateful for my pointy elbows.

There was frantic blinking and then nervous giggling.  “Oh no!” she resumed.  “I”m going to base your new fitting on the bra you’re wearing and how it looks!”

We looked at each other blankly.

“So…” she began.

“This is the part where I earn my Mardi Gras beads, eh?”

Furrowed blond eyebrows scowled at me in confusion.

“Take it off?” I volunteered.

“Oh, yes!  Let’s get started.”

I took a deep breath and showed her the saddest bra she’d ever seen in her professional history while holding my breath in a sad attempt to fake abs.  “Wow,” she breathed.  “And how do you feel about this bra?”

“Um, like I need new bras?”

“Are they all this bad?”

“This is my good bra.”

“Yes.  Well.  Shall we review the fit?”

“Sure.”

“It doesn’t fit.”  She looked at the tattered label barely clinging to the inside of the back strap.  “36B?”

“Yeah.  Um.  That’s why I’m here.  My boobs kinda changed – as did the size of my rib cage.  Also it’s at least five years old.”  Nicole did a double take.  “They say admitting it is the first step to recovery?” I offered.

She pulled the shoulder straps taught behind my back, winding the extra fabric around her fingers.  “How many bras do you own?”

“I dunno, three?  Four if you count the strapless thing that I wear once every five years.”

She unconsciously released the straps as she stared at me in surprise.  My boobs rebounded from the sudden drop in altitude.  “You know you can’t wear them two days in a row, right?”

It was my turn to be surprised.  “I’ve been wearing this one for a solid week.”

I could have sworn she was deflating – the pony tail stopped bouncing and there was far less lilt in her voice.  “You’re killing me.  That’s not really true, is it?”

“Um, no?”  I smiled sheepishly, trying to make amends for tormenting her with my bra regime.

There was a lot of groping and yanking in an attempt to illustrate just how shitty my bra was.  “Ok, let me grab a bra or two and we’ll try and determine your new size.”  In an instant she was gone….

Apparently I have quite a bit to say about this experience.  You should probably get back to work, ya lazy bum.  I’ll wrap it up tomorrow, promise.

Comments

  1. Don’t feel too bad. I have all those problems listed above, and I have to get a special size bra, which costs WAY too much money, so I sort of buy three or four at a time, and just wear them all until the underwires bust, which is usually between a year and six months. I’m down to the last once currently, and I’ve been wearing it for two weeks.

    You’re like a fashion goddess compared to me.
    .-= Bridget Callahan´s last blog ..Masonic Temple: Where Good Chairs Go to Die =-.

  2. Caution!!!! PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE WHIPPING OUT YOUR CREDIT CARD!!(though I have a sneaky feeling I might be too late..)
    Don’t let them persuade you to buy anything overpriced!

    As your buxom friend, who’s worn Rosa Kleb type-totalitarian-regime bras for most of her adult life(until I discovered the wonderful world of freya bras), please don’t buy those $80 bras those people try to push on you!!! E…bay…

    1. Yeah, we remembered your wisdom a little too late. I dunno about buying underthings on ebay. All the used panties I found on there were quite expensive.

  4. patchouli and shots of wheat grass – bwahahaha! honestly if nicole could prevent any of my fat from spilling out of a pretty bra, i’d put up with her holistic approach to fitting me, too.

  5. We have a store like this called simply, “Bras That Fit.” And I left looking like I had just had a boob job — the girls were right up under my chin, just where they should be. 😉 Well worth the price I paid for those bras.
    .-= Andrea´s last blog .."Vacation" =-.

  7. So if I told her I was wearing mine for over a week? Think she would have needed medical attention? Your good bra sounds like mine. Boobs can be so much work. At least vaginas are turn key.

    1. I have no idea why that tickles me so. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to hear anyone say turn key again without picturing a skeleton key in a vag. Thanks for that.

  8. I’ve never been properly fit for a bra, so I’m sure I’m totally wearing the wrong size. I didn’t know that bad bra etiquette could actually induce a physical response from someone! I’m going to have to go for a fitting to see what damage I can do.
    .-= colby´s last blog ..The one about my flaw =-.

  10. I’ve heard of those things before. I thought they were torture devices designed by men, maybe in order to make us more anxious to remove them for men? Myself, I’m firmly (not literally since my girls are almost over the hill) in the “sports” bra camp.

  11. That goes for shoes, too. Don’t wear them 2 days in a row. It has something to do with letting the elastic fibers relax or some such bullshit. You don’t have to WASH them more often, just switch back and forth.

    In the past few years, I have gone from the girl who doesn’t own more than one sports bra to the girl who hasn’t bought anything BUT sports bras, so they’re the only ones that aren’t stretched out…..

  13. Ummmmmm, can my comment just be, no comment? I like to go without the panties…..but I am obsessive about the bras….like..OB-Sess-IVE!! I like them beautiful and lacy and overpriced and well fitted and no, I don’t wear them two days in a row.
    .-= Wicked Shawn´s last blog ..Wicked Girls Love The Warm Weather =-.

    1. The whole time I was in there I kept thinking, “Wicked Shawn would be so ashamed of me.” I was wearing sneakers, too. THE HORROR. 🙂

  16. Do they do fittings for menfolk? I could use more cleavage. On the bottom half, I have plenty to work with no problem, but the chest…

  17. I should’ve come with you. I actually did pay $40 for my last bra, in 2005…I wouldn’t pay more though, unless I could wear it two days in a row, maybe even three…

  21. I have probably a good 12-15 bras. I’m anal about them because I grew up with some seriously whacked out bras due to my mother buying me whatever was on clearance no matter what size, so I would modify them myself. I still do this on occasion. If an underwire breaks, I save the bra til the next time one breaks, and I salvage the underwires. I currently have 2 or 3 with no wires at all, patiently waiting their turns to be resurrected. I get mine from Lane Bryant though, Cacique. They’re awesome and last a long time, and I wash them and dry them in the machines frequently. But I do wear them two days in a row, unless I do something dirty or sweaty.
    .-= Aunt Juicebox´s last blog ..Because I’m Severely Lazy Today =-.

  22. The golden rule is “take care of your girls and they’ll take care of you”. And by take care of you I mean make guys buy you drinks at the bar. I hate buying bras. But I have finally realized that I can fight gravity with the right support system and now am the proud owner of 4 victoria secret bras and two huge cotton things. I have two VS “dressing nice” bras, two VS “daily bras” and two “have to sleep in or risk squishing a nipple” cotton things. My girls are so grateful that they finally stopped looking “pendulous”.

    I can’t wait for the rest of the story.
    ♥Spot
    .-= Spot´s last blog ..Friends, family and revenge… =-.

  24. Marymac stole my line!!! That was one of the best lines you had “Bras in six pack”. Pure genius. I am sorry for coming to the bra fitting party late. I am happy that I found my way back to read it. Oh so much to say to you… How about start with HOW come I didn’t know about this supposedly HOT trend until I read this post? AND thanks. I didn’t know I can’t wear the same bras two days in a row. Why? Do you have to wash them every night? Our boobs don’t have eh, stuff leaking out like our vags, do they? 😉 I can’t wait to read Part II. But now I really want a personal bra fitting session too. I hope you have learned enough from this experience to do it in NYC this August. We can have a vodka and groping,eh, I mean bra fitting party.

    p.s. The woman sounds all bouncy all over inside and out. LOL

    1. what she needs is like a ‘line voting’ system so we can choose the thing she said that made us laugh hardest and vote up! also, why am i talking about her behind her back on her own blog? awkkkwardddd. But let’s all get together and drink vodka at BlogHer anyway! 😉
      .-= marymac´s last blog ..Guest Post: Brett and the City =-.

    2. Boy is Rocco going to be pissed when he has to bail ALL our asses out of the clink come August. I will happily grope you all as requested.

      1. GROUP GROPE! I mean. Um. Since I am speaking and trying not to get fired beforehand due to public drunkenness and general orgy-ing, I mean….

        “I look forward to networking with my blogging colleagues in a relaxed and professional setting.”
        .-= marymac´s last blog ..Guest Post: Brett and the City =-.

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