Brittany Gibbons is my hero. If you haven’t read her blog, you must. She is funny and real, as well as drop dead gorgeous.
She recently wrote a post on her site called The Art of Bra Fitting that has officially changed my life. Now, I knew that I wasn’t wearing the correct size bra. I mean, when the back strap ends up around your neck by the end of the day, you’ve got the wrong size bra on … or some freaky perversion. And since we all know I’m practically Mother Teresa, we’ll go with door #1.
My boobs have known for quite some time. They were sweet about it at first – just sort of spilling over and saying ‘excuse me’ anytime they got out of control. But I’ve noticed lately they’ve gotten a little hostile. One of them viciously sprouted a black hair and the other one shouts expletives at me. I thought they enjoyed their jiggly freedom, but I guess it’s more like riding a roller coaster without a seat belt … or bouncing on a pogo stick all day. Ok, ok, boobies … Brittany Gibbons post to your rescue!
So I watch the video she posts on how to correctly measure your puppies. I come up with a cup size that literally throws me off a balcony screaming … in the best possible way. HUH?? At the time of the viewing, I’m wearing a B cup, people. A B CUP!! And this is saying I’m several cup sizes larger than that … and by several I mean like 20.
forcibly grab my friend and head to the mecca of bra shopping (news to me!), Nordstrom’s. We head straight to the dressing room and proceed to get sized there. I am CONVINCED those measurements taken in my dark, scary bedroom are completely wrong. When I tell the lucky woman who gets to measure my mammary glands that I am aware that my current bra doesn’t fit, she looks at me like I’ve sprouted a third boob and says, “Um, YEAH”. Yikes!
She does some measuring and says she’s bringing back bras for me to try on. I stand in the dressing room shirtless, yelling boob jokes out to my friend in the room across from me. Honestly, she never knows what kind of crazy shit will come out of my mouth … her laughter is more the kind you would experience while watching a schizophrenic do just about anything. I always note a sense of fear in her giggle 🙂
In comes my Nordstrom bra fitter with a bra for me to “test”. I throw it on and can’t believe my eyes. OH! This is what a bra is supposed to look like, feel like, and BE like. She checks me out … makes sure I did the boob swoop, or whatever, correctly and says, yes, this is the proper size. I ask her what that size is and restrain from pissing my pants. I do, however, scream it in question … “I’m WHAT?!” The random lady in the next dressing room busts up laughing.
I kind of feel like Gwyneth Paltrow’s character in Shakespeare in Love when she wakes up (we’ll leave out the part of what she had just done … wink, wink) and her nurse says, “it’s a new day” and she replies, “it’s a new WORLD”.
It is Day One of my new “support system” and let’s just say, my boobies are baking me a cake. They may even throw a party in my honor. Who knew?!
So get your skinny asses to Nordstrom’s or Brittany’s site! You can thank me later 🙂
P.S. If you would like to know what cup size I went up to (from a B) just read the title of this post. I know, I know … MIND. BLOWN.