I might go into the area of things you don’t need to know about me right now, also known as TMI.
That’s your only warning.
Anyhoo, I am currently rocking the sports bra right now, complete with uni-boob because the other night at work, I finally decided I had had ENOUGH. If the indentations from the underwire at the side of my, um, “girls” were any indication, my bra was NOT fitting me. I have long had issues with bras (buying the wrong size, buying the wrong fit, buying cheap bras, etc.), and I thought I had found a solution. I went from wearing a 38C to a 40D, and I thought all would be right with the world.
I was wrong.
In the back of my mind, after enduring the pain of about 18 hours in a bra that wasn’t particularly comfortable from the moment I put it on that day, I decided I had to do something. I went on-line, Google’d the term “bra sizing,” and learned a somewhat painful lesson.
I am supposed to be wearing a 42DD (42E to some manufacturers).
That would explain why the underwires were trying to permanently mark up my bosom. I have been wearing the wrong size.
When I met Bill, I had a large collection of beautiful bras in size 38B. I also had quite an outstanding balance on my Victoria’s Secret credit card. And I had matching underwear for all those bras. And also some slightly skewed priorities (Hey, I was young and looking for a man. Don’t judge.).
After a few years (and more than a few pounds), I moved up to a 38C. I had gained some extra boobage, and I needed a larger cup. I bought more beautiful bras and matching underwear. I ended up with a larger balance on the credit card.
I went to nursing school. I gained 35 pounds. I started working as a nurse. I needed white bras and underwear to go under my white uniforms (although we get to wear those fun print scrub tops in the NICU, so I don’t have to wear the whole white deal like some nurses do).
I moved up to a 40D. Initially, everything felt good. The girls had more room, the band seemed to fit much better, and I was pretty darn comfortable.
Lately, it has not been so. I haven’t really gained any more weight (although I have not lost any either), but the bras I have are not fitting. And I am down to about four bras total (none of which really fit) because I finally got rid of most of the old beautiful ones that were just taking up room in my drawer). And since I can’t handle this uni-boob look, I am going to do something about it. I know what I should be wearing…I am going to go TRY ON SOME BRAS (What? You have always done this? Well, I never have. Don’t judge.), and I am hoping that when I go into work tomorrow night, I will be wearing something that is not torturing me and leaving bruises and red marks on the sides of my boobs.
This is my dream.
Doesn’t every woman deserve that?