Disclaimer: I am not bragging, this really REALLY is an irritating problem! So I went on birth control 2 months ago, terrified of course that I was going to blow up like a blimp. No, no, bizzarely enough the exact ahem, opposite happened. I lost about 7 lbs and ... grew a bra size. Needless to say, my boyfriend is gleeful. I, on the other hand, have naught but dark thoughts towards him and malekind because, oh, yes, all my bras are cutting into me now and leaving nasty red marks all over my pwetty lily-white skin (I mean, I am really really pale, so the marks show up as angry red welts and I look like the victim of some sort of bizarre S&M gone wronger than even S&M goes).
So, broke as I am, I caved and went bra-shopping today to Victoria's Secret because I had a hunch that I was now a very odd size that no affordable place would carry. Well, guess bloody what, not only am I a D cup, no, it's better than that! Much better! I am in-between a 34 and a 36 which means NOTHING fits me properly. I hate the lingerie industry, can I just say? You'd think that because I have these wonderful new growths on me (I must say, many a dithiramble had been sung to them even before and now it's gotten so ridiculous that I dread spingtime even more than I did when this whole thing started back in junior high) I would be prancing around gleefully in dressing rooms, adorning them with lace and velvet. Oh, but though Victoria's Secret makes bras in every size, they do not always take into account their actual wearability. I don't know how it works--maybe girls with implants have it better bc they're, you know, sturdier or something. Well, mine need a fucking harness. You know the inventor of the brassiere was, in fact, an architect, specializing in bridges? The mechanism of a bra's support is actually inspired by bridge design. Yeah, well if some girls get away with Monet's pretty little arch over that lake of lilies in Giverny, then I need the entire fucking Golden Gate Bridge in order to actually walk with the speed to which I am accustomed to walking. The lacy bras are lovely, pretty, gorgeous even--and on me, they are something I could wear exclusively in the bedroom, where the damned thing would end up on the floor in 5 seconds anyways.
So two hours and abour 10 bras later (and they take so much adjusting and fiddling with bra straps too! they're just so irritating to put on!), I spent $99 on ... two bras. Oh, yes, my friends, TWO. One scary looking dachshund harness thing and one actually cute and lacy (and sketchy!) one, but def only for evening wear (and removal), simply in honour of Valentine's Day and my boyfriend, who is cooking me dinner.
Okay, I can't REALLY complain. I have a loving boyfriend who cooks for me and whom I repay by diminishing waist and growing breasts (and by a whole lot of other less superficial things besides), but honestly!! I am a poor, broke student. There has got to be some cheaper way out of this.
Ahh, department stores, here we go ... after I turn in the thesis. Ooooh, maybe they have post-Valentine's Day sales?!
