Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Boobs! Boobs Everywhere - But Brassieres Remain Elusive

Ahh the joy of every woman (and probably some men) bra shopping.  The lovely little brassiere.  Tata covers, over the shoulder boulder holders, the bra.  Shopping for one is terrifying, comical, stressful and expensive.

According to Wikipedia the brassiere is a woman's undergarment that supports her breast. Sounds simple enough right?  IT.IS.NOT.SIMPLE.  This is not like men's t-shirts; crew neck, v neck, tank top...noooo this is something that is going to support your breasts and even if they are as small as raisins purchasing the wrong one can lead to horrible consequences and perhaps even death!

I am not joking here.  Capital D DEATH!

I first approach a popular mall lingerie shop and peek inside. Seems like a legit place so I put my whole foot in and am blasted by Rhianna singing about not wanting to be alone.  Ok I won't judge a store by it's music so I put another foot in and one arm - the next thing I know I'm looking square at the chest of a perky twenty year old with more makeup than face, a two sizes too small white t-shirt with what appears to be a very unfortunate grape juice stain on her chest or the biggest most purple thing I've seen since Prince in Purple Rain ok Prince is neither big or purple but you get the drift.

I run out.

I decide maybe a department store is probably a better bet, more variety, less pop tart music, less chance of purple screaming bras in my face (I like purple, I even like purple bras but my mother told me you never wear a bra like that under a white shirt...I'm old school).  So I step into department store M and run back out screaming, tears streaming from my closed eyes, nose running, coughing up a lung.  I made the mistake of using the cosmetic entrance of store M and you know with cosmetics comes those ladies with the green cloud of death coming from the six perfume bottles they have sprayed on you - all at the same time.

I smell like Calvin Klein crapped on Estee Lauder and Chanel.

After risking my life in the mall bathroom trying to de-skunk myself (never use the mall bathrooms if you can avoid them - nothing good is ever tucked in the bowels of a mall) I decide I probably have one more encounter in me before I decide to go commando.

Is it commando if you go braless or is it brammando?

I cautiously walk into store J and as tiny violins start to play I see nirvana!  I see bras I might wear and oh my God panties too!  Yes!

No!

I see beige, I see white (I haven't had a white bra since 11th grade), I see a few black....I see PINK WITH PURPLE LINING and I see ZEBRA but it's see through and covered in lace and ribbons.  I see RED with lips on them, shiny pink and red lips.  I see scratchy fabric and lots and lots of lace.  I see ones that look a little like what I imagine the color of frog puke to be.  I can't find my brand and I'm starting to sweat.  I walk in circles I only see boring bras and bras that should either be worn over your clothing or should come with a tube of itch cream.  I start stumbling.  I finally see a bra consultant (not kidding consultant).  She's 4 feet tall and older which is good because I'm reduced to pointing, grimacing and making weird vowel noises.

She gives me really bad news.

My favorite, most favorite brand has been discontinued.  Axed.  Done.  She brings me to the sale rack.  Everything they have left is $5.00...woohoo I can stock up!  Woo noooooooo!  I don't take size 34A.  I don't take size 42DD.  I do not like green eggs and ham!

She leads me to the new brand replacing the best bras in the world.

They are ugly.  They look itchy.  They look see-through. A few look like my breasts will be launched into orbit or take out someones eye.  The panties look like they are made from sheer curtain fabric.  They have lots of Balconette's.  They have lots of of demi-cups.  They have more padding than was used on the floor of the last Olympic gymnastic competitions.  I need a bra not a soft landing pad.

I am outraged.  Outrage turns to sadness.

Shopping for bras has always been a horror show.


I just want a bra.  I want one slightly padded not like a life vest.  I want something you'd wear under a t-shirt.  A nice contour but not a deep plunge.  I don't want it to be made of itchy fabric. I don't want to have to take out a loan to purchase one.  I don't really want lips on it especially lips of a person unknown.  I like zebra but not hot pink zebra.  I don't want it to push my cleavage as lovely as it is up to my chin. I want cute, I want sexy but I do not want a shelf for my boobs to rest on.  I am starting to have an major anxiety attack.

I do not want a bright green racer back.  I do not want a blinking light novelty bra.  I want my favorite brand back. With polka dots and leopard print, under-wire and swirly designs!  I want smooth and soft with a little sexy. I want/need oxygen!

I see black and white polka dots!

They are socks.

Those and a couple of heavy duty rubber bands and a wire hanger.  I should be good to go.




2 comments:

Anonymous said...

OK, I have to go bra shopping but you've just confirmed exactly what I know will happen so I am putting it off again!

Kelly-Ann Baker said...

Xanax could help or lots and lots of wine! Good luck!