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That time I went bra shopping

 I have a couple of weddings this summer, for which my step mom purchased me a beautiful dress. Yesterday, when I was all hopped up on caffeine from Starbucks at target, I came to a frightening realization: I don’t have a “good bra” to hoist the girls up with in my pretty dress.

I’m a fairly practical gal. I tend to buy some sort of cotton blend wire free bra. I may have told y’all I’m short. I’m short and round. I’m short, round and my boobs are just “meh.” You’ve known those women you see and you’re like “my God, those are fabulous.” I had a friend in college whose breasts I was in awe of. It was like that Seinfeld episode, “they’re real and they’re spectacular.” This is not the case in my situation. It’s more like they’re real and they’re there…not quite where they were 15 years ago.

So yesterday, I had a spare hour by myself and decided to look for a “good bra.” I started texting my friend  (who happened to be bra shopping too).  My fist text read, “they should make petite bras. Underwires are the devil.” I tried on every bra that said “poke free.” I expect a lot of things from my bra: comfort, support, breathe-ability. What I don’t want is two purple gouges into my sternum. Once again, I gave up on the underwire and starting looking and the wire free variety that promised removal of sideboob. 

They lie. I’m round, but not THAT round, yet, their side boob eliminating claims were false. So, so false. So, I started perusing the isles.  I found it. THE bra. It was cotton. It was soft. It was wire fee. It was fabulous. It had a little padding for some lift for the girls. I took it in to the fitting room to try it out. You understand the confidence this takes; the florecent lights, the horrid mirrors that make you look like a hobbit and knowing people know you’re in there looking for the bra of your dressy dreams. It’s a lot of pressure. 

The bra was everything Id hoped it would be. It hoisted and holstered, it was smooth. Wait? Where’d my side boob go? Then, I saw these two little clips on the strap. What the?!? I fiddled with the clip. Oh sweet fancy…it’s a NURSING BRA.  

I had visions of becoming a radical feminist (I’m already a feminist but not radical…yet) and setting ALL the bras on fire.  I guess me and my dressy sports bra will be attending the wedding Saturday.