Historic Day

When getting dressed after my run today, I looked upon the tag on my way too big bra. Seriously, my boobs look like pin balls entangled in frilly laced machine: nipples cockeyed and gravity a cruel mistress. But this is your reward after two babies who each nursed a year. And let us not forget the sixty pounds I lost this year. The tag on the bra said 38DDD. Which meant that I had to be 36DD? Which meant Victoria’s Secret carried that size. Which meant fleeing my office giddy with the prospect that my days of playing knee soccer with my flesh were numbered.

I tried on every single 36DD bra that they had in the store. Thank you understanding sales associate who just gave me the 36DD bins to have at it after the words “just finished nursing”, “need support” and “I used to have really nice boobs, really.” Fifteen contenders later, I settled on the Victoria’s Bio Fit Bra and an uplifting demi underwire. Uplifting key as it refers to both spirit (mine) and the manual act of lifting, heavy lifting. Again, gravity plus pregnancy plus breastfeeding equals shield yee eyes children from ancient time honored horrors. But due to the advances in bra engineering, this girl once again possesses cleavage. C-L-E-A-V-A-G-E, bring on the free drinks sort of cleavage. My four year breast journey is best summed, as follows:

1. The starting point of 36 D.
2. The frightening heights of 38G.
3. The still need to lose the baby weight 38DDD.
4. The holy god not another pregnancy 38Fs.
5. The I don’t care if they are ugly and horrible and made by Playtex nursing I give up on life 38E.
6. The I lost 60 pounds, and stopped nursing, and need a bra capable of heroic feats 36DD.

Thank you Victoria’s Secret for saving me thousands in breast surgery. You are the best.