The other day, I decided that it was time for me to get some new bras. This wasn’t just a spur of the moment decision, mind. I’d been wearing the same bra for two months now, and it was starting to… well, not protect my boobs.
There’s always an air of dread with me when I need to go shopping for clothes. And it’s double the dread whenever it comes to lingerie. I’m not someone who likes going about, wearing frilly knickers and lacy camisoles.
Yeah, try to sound surprised.
Anyway. On a definite mission, I bolted into the first lingerie shop I came across in town (which was La Senza, having a sale on) and halted the first sales assistant I came across.
SA: “Hello! Can I help you with anything?”
Me: “Yes! Have you any good push-up bras for sale?”
SA: “We do indeed.”
SA pulls open a drawer, fishing out a glittery push-up.
SA: “So, we’ve got something like that… Do you know your size?”
Me, with absolute conviction: “Yes, I’m a 38C.”
SA: *blinks twice* “Are you sure?”
Me: “Yes… Yes? I don’t know.”
SA: “I don’t think you’re a 38C…”
Me, thinking: “But I am! I’m wearing a 38C right now! I’ve been a 38C for years!”
Me, actually saying: “Well, I’m not sure.”
SA: “Well, let’s give you a 36C… *pushes black 36C in my hands* and there’s someone on hand to help you if you have any trouble.
Me: “… Cheers.”
So, off I went, to the dressing room, because I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but fit the damn bra.
Did it fit?
Did it fuck.
As I tried my best to work my boobs into the bra (and they were not very willing) I spotted myself in the mirror and promptly gave up. It looked like I had six breasts, and it felt like I’d accidentally put on a bra made entirely from floss wire.
SA 2: “Are you alright in there? Does your bra fit?”
Me: “No. No it doesn’t *massages boobs back to life*”
SA 2: “Oh. Ehm… would you like a fitting?”
Me, considering the idea for a nanosecond, before coming up with a better idea: “No, thanks. I’m just going to go.”
I did end up with a new bra though. Two, in fact. I bolted to Ann Summers and got 2 38Cs, and a confirmation from one of the shop girls (who did a fitting) that I was indeed in possession of a 38C.
And they’re damn good bras at that.