Speaking of Breasts

It got me thinking of going bra shopping with the Shill when we were in college. Now, neither the Shill nor I are what you’d call flat chested. And so buying bras is not very much fun. If you want a bra that fits right, you have to get something that looks like your grandma would wear it and if you want something cute, you have to just accept that it’s going to be uncomfortable.

For instance, I used to have the cutest bra once, lacy and frilly and white, and one day I was standing in front of the big windows at work and I heard this “pow” and felt this terrible pain in my rib cage right under my left tit and I thought, “holy shit, I’ve been shot! How fucking weird is that?” and I reached under my shirt to feel for a bullet hole only to discover that I was not bleeding as much as someone who’s been shot ought to.

Instead, it was just a little trickle of blood brought on by a snapped underwire jutting into my skin.

So, when we were in college, Victoria’s Secret was really pushing the Wonder Bra and the Shill and I decided that we would go see what the fuss was about. So, we went into the store and each grabbed a bra in our size and headed off to the dressing room.

Now, the point of the Wonder Bra is to take everything you’ve got and hoist it up where everyone can appreciate it (or use it as a place to rest their appetizer tray, depending on your breastly needs). But if you have a lot to hoist, the cups aren’t designed deep enough to give you room to come both up and out.

No, everything just moves up. Fine for folks who aren’t moving that much up. But if you are…

Well, I put it on, looked in the mirror and was immediately reminded of a chicken. My boobs appeared to be coming out of my collar bone and making a soft, shallow couple of hills down the front of my chest. I started to snicker.

And then I heard snickering from the dressing room next to me. And the Shill and I opened our dressing room doors, looked across at each other and started guffawing.

And you know what? They asked us to leave!

Apparently, they don’t like it when you laugh at the miracles rendered by the Wonder Bra.

5 thoughts on “Speaking of Breasts

  1. My daughter once insisted I try on one of her “up-and-at-’em bras. Well. Too much up and too much at ’em for me. When I showed her, she loved it – said it made me look younger. My response was to wonder why that is so damned important. I’m a woman in my 40’s, probably the best decade in a woman’s life – why would I want to try to look 20?

  2. I love that story! It was the start of my obsession with breasts and my quest for the perfect bra. Which I have yet to find.

    After this incident, I went bra shopping with my friend Dr. Dre and pitched a complete hissy fit because I tried on 32 bras and none of them fit. I’ve since then had myself measured at 6 different stores (I told you I was obsessed) and been 4 different sizes.

    Long story short, I’m working to start a bra company. Fuck Victoria’s Secret. Fuck the mainstream brands. I can deal with spending $70 on an everyday bra but if I do it better fucking work (and they rarely do) and by work I mean hold me up, provide a pleasing shape and not look like crap. Just because I have large breasts does not mean I’m okay with looking like a grandma when I take my shirt off. (LE, this venture is really all for you.) And, to the dumb bitch at Victoria’s Secret — just because I wear a DD, does not mean I am fat nor does it mean I should just grab a 36C because it’s the same size. That is such a fucking lie.

    AAAARGH! Readers of TCP — will you participate in my market research survey? I’ll have Aunt B post a link in a couple of weeks. I look forward to your stories of undergarment rage when I return from my 9:00 meeting!

  3. if this marketing venture involves (as i suspect it does) looking at women in bras, i know you can count me and at least a few other regular readers of TCP in.

  4. I would be happy to participate in the market research survey. Plus, I like to consider myself a little bit of an expert because I love fancy bras and I have plenty to fill them up with. I haven’t found the perfect bra but I have found some damn near perfect ones. And I tried on a lot to get there.

    Aunt B, the underwire is always what goes first. Always.

    RIP bra that was so pretty I was sad it went under clothes, may your ruptured underwire not have pained you as much as it pained me.


  5. Underwires are nice in theory but I find a bra I like, wear it to death and then the rusty underwire busts out and stabs me in the side and I feel like I’ll get lockjaw or something.

    I had this black tie event a couple weeks back and found this fantastic one-shouldered black dress. So, I try on a dozen of those strapless bra deals — each worse than the last. Not only does the body part encase you like a sausage, but the cups are beyond fucked up — I tried on a one that said it was a DD and that thing was no bigger than a B cup. Adding insult to injury, the shape of it left me with freakish lumpy blocks on my chest where my boobs used to be.

    Setting aside my quest for a strapless bra, I tried for a one-shoulder and those apparently don’t really exist. What I ended up doing was finding a decent regular black bra with detachable straps. Try to follow along: I hooked the strap from the left boob over my right shoulder to my right shoulder blade, and the strap on my right boob over the right shoulder to hook at the left should blade. A safety pin to keep the straps aligned over my shoulder kept the straps from peeking out and the cup shape was most pleasing. (To me anyway and I do like to admire my own chest.)

    Dr. Dre, who likes to punish herself by joining me on these adventures, saw this getup in the dressing room and was like, dude — that is never gonna work. Oh, but it did. And no unsightly lines where the body slimmer sausage casings would have hit my waist.

    My point is, I can’t find stuff that works and I don’t have a strangely shaped body. And I know I’m not alone. And I know it doesn’t need to be this difficult. Really, how hard can it be to create something that hold you up (without strangling yourself) gives you a decent shape and looks nice?

    In addition to the everyday bra assholes and the special occasion fuckers, sports bra manufacturers can also go to hell. I shall patent my proprietary double bagging system and make BILLIONS.

Comments are closed.