I decided to go on a shopping spree, much on the advice of
Cosmopolitan magazine and my mother, both of whom prescribed it as a cure for
low self-esteem and a broken heart. The theory being that a break-up warrants a
makeover and I should do it now, in a last hurrah of having money, before I am
resigned to a life of benefits and sweatpants. Besides, I can’t remember the
last time I bought new underwear. Actually that is a lie. I exactly remember
the two occasions I have bought underwear in the last three and half years. The
most recent time, at least two years ago, I bought 10 pairs of identical black
panties – they were declared ‘gross’ by my shopping partner and (not at that
point) ex partner. And I am (clearly) no expert on making a relationship work,
but if you’re in a similar situation and your response to your partner is
‘well, they’re not for you anyway’ – yeah, that might be a warning sign! The
last underwear spree before that was that antithesis of sexy bedroom lingerie,
the feeding bra. Oh and several pairs of ‘post-partem’ knickers (disposable is
never something you should look for in your underwear choices) – large enough
to accommodate the hospital issue maternity pads. If you’re not familiar,
picture a lilo in your knickers- not entirely unwelcome after 12 stitches in
your bits – but seriously, they could have handed them out as liferafts on the
Titanic, either that or used them to mop up the water!
Anyway, back to my current underwear. I figure at some point
I’m going to have to start considering looking at another man and not wanting
to throw up or punch his face in. Which means possibly thinking about maybe
dating. Which means the slimmest chance that at some point in the very far off
future an actual real life man might possibly glance me in my negligee. Which
means I need to stop wearing my ex’s boxers and that same old feeding bra with the
clip-up cups (which, again, if you’re not familiar actually sounds kind of cute
in a ‘peekaboo’ style like something you’ve seen in the ‘naughty’ section of
Knickerbox, but to men is actually more of a libido killer than imagining
Margaret Thatcher. And your mum. Going at it. On a trampoline).
So I stand naked from the waist-up as a bespectacled (and
mortifyingly bosomy) sales assistant fiddles with her tape measure. I decided
on M&S rather than La Senza in the hope that the bra-fitting service would
be carried out by someone who understood my plight, being just 25, with the
self-confidence of a stone and the breasts of someone who, well… breastfeed a
wriggling toddler and supplied an entire neo-natal unit in donated milk – as
opposed to the raven haired, French manicured nubile size sixes that work in my
local La Senza.
I have been fitted for a bra twice in my entire life. The
first time, 12 years old, in my mum’s living room, she digs out the tape
measure from her sewing box, checks my cup size in the back of the Grattan
catalogue and orders me a white lace crop-top in the size 26AAA. The second
time, I was being fitted for the aforementioned passion killer feeding
bra, and the less said about that ordeal the better.
So my grey-haired old lady asks me what size bra I would
normally wear. Do I tell her the entire history of my bra-wearing life? Massive
pregnancy boobs, rock-hard breastfeeding boobs, deflated post-milk boobs? I
have no freaking idea, that’s why I am putting myself through this ‘fitting’
(and quite frankly, the fitting for my coil was more comfortable than this!!).
But no, I sort of mumble something that might sound like a ‘maybe a C cup?’ and
squirm as she holds back a smile and shakes her head and hands me a selection
that are decidedly more A cup than I was hoping.
Thanks for sharing. I love stories like this. When shopping with my toddler recently (who now has a baby brother), he went to the bra shopping and said - Look, mommy - to feed the baby!! (Pointing at said bras!)
ReplyDeleteThis is the truth- Even as a married mom, my alone time is sparse- Do you want to be added to the kid-blog humor board? Posts like these would fit in well!
ReplyDeletehaha, oh, the maternity pad thing just got me. funny coz it's true, lol. Love your style of writing. Can totally hear you talking. Funnily enough, even with a partner I still haven't found that time to do the desperate bra fitting and shopping on my own. The last time was almost a year ago with an almost 3 year old and a new baby. Suffice to say, I left the shop, no bra bought.
ReplyDelete