I need to get this off my chest.
There is no greater quandary in the life of a woman than trying to find the perfect bra. It is easier to find the perfect man than the perfect bra. As much as I’d like to do without them (bras, that is), my size Cs and their inevitable sagging qualities does not allow it. (Disclaimer: My boobs are not in the sagging phase yet)
I recently made the big decision to purchase a minimizer bra. Yes, Cs aren’t that big in the grand scheme of double Ds but I consider them slightly overwhelming for my frame and they ultimately put me in the well-endowed category. I find it uncomfortable to wear sporty outfits like racerbacks because all they do is enhance my cleavage and made me look more slutty than sporty. While some women may want nothing more than to do slutty all the time, I’m not one of those women. Of course, it’s a different story on a Saturday night – I take the girls out every once in a while.
So while I was getting somewhat fondled in Marks & Spencer, the saleslady decided to judge me for my choice in undergarments. She declared me “old fashioned” for nothing wanting to show my cleavage off. When I told her my all-powerful nipples would bust through the flimsy bra I was trying on, she then told me that it was “natural”. So’s my face but that doesn’t mean I’d walk around town without make-up. All in all, I don’t think bra sales was really her forte.
So now, I’ve got my minimizer bra, which in all honesty, ain’t that minimizing (it definitely doesn’t control my unruly nipples) but I’ll see it through – like I’ve seen through all those other bras with poking underwire, rising cups, slipping straps and back-fat squeezing cages of death.
I can’t believe I just wrote a post on my boobs. It’s a slow night.