Bras. And Cuss Words. And a Win.

Posted on April 18, 2010

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Chapter 1 – The Pre-Shopping Thought Process

(Written on April 4)

I don’t have a 34B chest (though I did, about 25 pounds ago).  I don’t have  a 36B, or a 34C, and I may not even have a 36C either (though 36C is the size of the bras I currently wear the most).  All of my bras are those sizes and all of my bras are hated.  The 34B ones are long-given-up-on, yet still in my bra drawer.  The 36Bs and 34Cs are fine as long as I’m not wearing anything even remotely clingy because if I move wrong, I get mice.  You know mice, those little lumps above your bra cups when you’re spilling out? The bigger the chest, the bigger the animal you can use as a reference… Some people have zebras.

I have two 36C bras and those are my favorite, even though I am not convinced that they fit properly either.  Or it could be the fact that I got them on super clearance at Target.

I know my bras don’t fit properly.  I also know that  my “redundant skin caused by massive weight loss”, or “Kaneisha” as my glob of extra belly skin was so lovingly named years ago by my friend Ken (it was nicer than what my then-preschool aged daughter called it, which was my “Gooshee”) and I aren’t really in the mood to go take off my top in front of a stranger.   I’ve heard stories about bra fittings at Dillard’s involving all manner of poking and prodding and wrapping of a measuring tape, and I don’t want to endure it.  I can’t.

I know there are places that do bra fittings without such invasive tactics, but then I wonder if they are as effective.

Summer is coming (at least that’s what has been rumored… you wouldn’t guess by Utah’s weather lately) and that means that I won’t be able to hide under layers and that I had better take care of the problem.

I have a couple of options: Option 1 is to go get a bra fitting.  Option 2 is to lose 20 pounds in the next month so that some of the old ones will fit again.  Neither sounds any more pleasant than the other.

I suppose a third option would be to measure myself using one of the many tutorials available online, then go try on about 150 bras.  That sounds like as much fun as shopping for new jeans in places where they are all made for stick figures.

I googled it.  Here’s what I found:  Results 110 of about 1,570,000 for bra fit tips. (0.43 seconds).  That feels like too many for me to go through in order to find a system that sounds good, so I can pretty much forget option 3.

I guess it could be worse, I could need to shop for a swimsuit.  Luckily, I bought a suit last summer and it’s still brand new, never worn, and still has the tags on it, so I don’t have to worry about that.

Chapter Two – The Shopping

(Done on April 11)

I went to Macy’s because they were having a bra sale, and their website claims they are all about the fittings.  Awesome.  Two birds, one stone.  The girl in the lingerie department greeted me half heartedly and asked if she could help me.  I told her I needed the right size bra and she said “Oh, okay.” and started to walk away.  I said “You guys do fittings, right?” to which she responded that she hadn’t been trained on that yet, and there was nobody available who had been.  Great. I was on my own to guess.

I grabbed about a zillion bras in close to the size I was wearing.  I tried on a few of them and realized quickly that I was way off.  I had read tips, watched videos, etc. and I knew the rules about how a bra should fit.  I went back out of the fitting room and put the first batch of hell-nos back where they belonged.

The First Zillion

I gathered a new pile of about a zillion bras and headed back to the fitting room.  On my way, I was again greeted by the same sales girl, as if I hadn’t been there for 30 minutes.

The second zillion

I tried on some of the second zillion and felt like I was getting close.  The size that I decided that I was, was bigger than I had thought.  Way bigger.  Like “Some girls pay good money for 36DDs and the thought of a  36DD bra makes me want to cry” bigger.

I went out again, and grabbed the third batch.  This time it was narrowed down to less than a zillion.  This time I knew what I was looking for size-wise, I just had to make sure or which style worked best.

The third batch, notice it isn't a zillion

I got it narrowed down to two styles.  They were buy two, get two free, so I got two of each style, one black one nude.

I went to the cash register, where the same sales girl was ready to ring up my sale.  She greeted me as if she had never seen me before 9I had been there for about 90 minutes) and asked if I found everything okay.  “Um yeah, after being here for an hour and a half and you giving me zero help” I replied in my head.  What I verbalized was “Yeah, eventually.”  She rang up my purchase and then said “My name is [Whatever].  If you could go to macys.com and let them know that you received excellent service, I would appreciate it.  The website is on your receipt.” I stared at her for a second, with all sorts of retorts in my head, like “But what if I didn’t get any service at all?” and “Did you really just say that to me?” and “Are you effing serious? Weren’t you here the past hour-and-a f***ink-half while I struggled to help myself after you told me that you did not know how to help me with the one thing I came here because I needed?” What I verbalized was nothing, as I took my purchase and walked out.

Note: This is not a customer service rant about Macy’s.  I’ve only ever shopped there twice, and both times have been at the same mall, and both times have sort of sucked  but I blame it on the location of the mall, and the people who live near there being a special breed of weirdo, and I won’t worry about it.  I probably won’t go to that Macy’s again, but that’s fine because there are two closer to my house.  One is by Nordstrom and the other is by a Starbucks and an under-construction liquor store so I’ll be just fine.

When I got home from the mall, I put on one of the new bras and showed my boy that I could jump, reach, bend, wiggle, etc. without any bra-related weirdness.  He didn’t seem to get it, and he wasn’t stoked about how much money I’d spent, but oh well.  He may not have understood the importance, but I did, and that was what mattered.

After a Week of New-Braness

(Written April 18)

The first day, I wore a tee shirt.  Without a camisole underneath as an attempt to smooth/hide things.  Win.

I did my job without feeling like I had to make adjustments.  I put away boxes.  I pulled things out of boxes.  I climbed all over a pallet of new samples and promotional materials that I had to sort through in the warehouse.   It was all worth it.

All week I marveled at the difference that had been made in the way my clothes fit.

Last night  I had dinner with my sisters and someone said something about “The girls” and I said “Speaking of the girls, do you notice anything different?” and my sister Sue (who knew I was going shopping for bras last weekend) said “Uh. Whatever you paid for that bra, it was worth it.”

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Posted in: Bodies, Clothing, Mishaps