I was talking with my grandma about the problems that a girl of my, ahem...endowment, has finding a decent bra. So, my Grandma, being the most generous and concerned grandma in the world, wanted to take me to a specialty shop here in town to get fitted and to pick out a booby holster that could hold my ladies adequately.
First, we walk in. I instantly get the impression that rarely does anyone under 50 shop in this establishment. I feel as though I am engulfed in a maze of panties and girdles. I don't even know where the cash register is. Apart from all of the unmentionables, they had a wide assortment of clothing fit for the aging art teacher types with a penchant for sequins, rhinestones and flowy gauzy skirts.Oh, and lots of swimsuits with skirts. lots. Then, working at the hidden counter is a lady who was "let go" from my work for basically being bat sh** crazy (basically a female version of Milton from "office space"). Not a good sign.
Luckily she doesn't seem to recognize me and she scurries off to find someone who can tell me how big my ta-tas really are. Soon after, a woman emerges from the boulder-holder jungle to help me.
This woman is a bit over middle aged and wearing a scrunchy in her hair. She whips out her measuring tape, hardly smiling or conversing with me. It is quickly determined that I am a 38 DDD. No that is not a typo. That is 3 D's in a row. I tell her I would prefer a nursing bra and she is off to dig around for some in my size.
After, what seemed to be, a long search she yields just two choices for me. One is a beige number made of spandexy material. Very sexy. Sexy like a sheet of blank copy paper. The next is composed almost entirely of lace and has a giant bow in the middle. Even sexier. I can tell already, that one will make me look like I am trying to smuggle a prom dress under my shirt.
I try on the exciting beige one. Comfortable. A bit "nipply" with the thin material but effective nonetheless. I wait for her to come back and check on my progress ten minutes later she comes in. She asks how I like it. I tell her it could give a little more lift but the lady said she could shorten the straps. Not sold on it, though, and for the money I am definitely not going to settle. Next comes the lacy one. good god no. no no no no no. First of it seems to be sewn for someone with boobs shaped like kermit the frog's face. or SUPER puffy nipples. I have neither. The lady comes in and I tell her I do not like it. She says there is nothing else for me there besides 70 dollar ones. Yeah right.
I want to slap her for being so obviously indifferent to my plight and eagerness to up sell me. I am on the verge of yelling "Aren't you supposed to be some sort of titty whisperer?!?! Help me find a F***ing bra! Get creative!".
All of these thoughts are going through my head as it is just her and I alone in the dressing room. Her in her shapeless hot pink button down shirt, me in a hideous bra and my pants. I thought this couldn't get more frustrating when....her cell phone rings and...SHE ANSWERS IT! WHAT? OH NO SHE DIDN'T!
She starts talking on the phone in the room with me then pushes her way out of the curtain of the dressing room, leaving it open so that my bosoms may be exposed to one and all. I close the curtain, get dressed and walk back out into the store. I am boiling inside.
She comes walking back up to me and assumes I am Going to buy the beige one. not so fast my friend. I tell her I don't want it. I wanted to say "I am going to pass on your merchandise despite your wonderful salesmanship." But I just politely give it back, crestfallen, and make a bee-line for the exit with my entourage. I would rather continue to wear my 15 dollar bra from target that is about two D's too small. Not to mention it has a brown stain on the boob from when I unknowingly dropped a chocolate chip down my shirt while eating a trail mix bar the other day and it melted in there.
I guess the search will have to continue.
P.S. perfect name for a bra store: "titty city" can also be used for a strip club if need be.
