40E
So I’ve had stomach flu for five days, and now I’m down a size. Funny how that happens. Funny how it won’t last. Especially since I haven’t worked out since last Friday.
Another thing I did Friday before I got sick was go and get refitted for bras. Mine have been out of whack for quite awhile now — you know, that thing that happens when they get too small and the underwires don’t fit against your rib cage anymore, and so you get a little wire shelf in between the boobs. Hott.
The last time I was fitted was back in HomeTown, by a tiny Argentine named Elsa. She’d been fitting me for about five years. When she first got me, she was mortified by my Victoria’s Secret bras and the shape (or lack thereof) they conferred. I’m well-endowed by genetics, and the added weight adds even more. As she fitted me, there was lots of “You poor girl!” (sympathetic, oddly comforting), lots of measuring and hauling back and forth of bras. She must have put me through 15 bras before she was satisfied, and by that time she knew so much about my upper half that we could have gotten married. I left with a 38D Bali minimizer, and was very happy for awhile. By the time I left that town, I was a DD. Now I find that I’m a 40E (after having lost a few pounds). I bought two molded Fantasie bras at $66 each, which make things look great. The problem is the bras themselves look like they belong to a very large drag queen. (Perhaps Harvey Fierstein’s sidekick in Torch Song Trilogy.) I also bought two minimizers that were around $50, partly because I couldn’t figure out how to travel with the other ones. They’d need their own luggage.
When I was first fitted at 14, I was a 34C. At 20 I was a 38C, so we might assume that is my full-grown adult size. 40E is definitely news to me.
Another thing I did Friday before I got sick was go and get refitted for bras. Mine have been out of whack for quite awhile now — you know, that thing that happens when they get too small and the underwires don’t fit against your rib cage anymore, and so you get a little wire shelf in between the boobs. Hott.
The last time I was fitted was back in HomeTown, by a tiny Argentine named Elsa. She’d been fitting me for about five years. When she first got me, she was mortified by my Victoria’s Secret bras and the shape (or lack thereof) they conferred. I’m well-endowed by genetics, and the added weight adds even more. As she fitted me, there was lots of “You poor girl!” (sympathetic, oddly comforting), lots of measuring and hauling back and forth of bras. She must have put me through 15 bras before she was satisfied, and by that time she knew so much about my upper half that we could have gotten married. I left with a 38D Bali minimizer, and was very happy for awhile. By the time I left that town, I was a DD. Now I find that I’m a 40E (after having lost a few pounds). I bought two molded Fantasie bras at $66 each, which make things look great. The problem is the bras themselves look like they belong to a very large drag queen. (Perhaps Harvey Fierstein’s sidekick in Torch Song Trilogy.) I also bought two minimizers that were around $50, partly because I couldn’t figure out how to travel with the other ones. They’d need their own luggage.
When I was first fitted at 14, I was a 34C. At 20 I was a 38C, so we might assume that is my full-grown adult size. 40E is definitely news to me.
posted by Lulu at 5:00 PM
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