Yes, you read the title correctly. I am not above using shock value to drive traffic to my site.
Let The Shopping Begin
As a continuation from my last riveting post A Clean Slate on cleaning out my closet, I decided to start out easy and purchase myself a bra. How hard could that be? After all, I was desperately in need of an underwire bra that didn’t provide unrequested piercing. As writers know though, the subject matter of many a blog post starts with those very words…How hard could that be.
How Big Are The Ladies?
The first problem I encountered was size ignorance. I have an idea. However during these COVID times you cannot try on bras, so I needed to be somewhat informed as to my ladies’ girth and volume. Off to Google for its wisdom on fitting a bra.
The first website instructed me to measure around my torso under the breast. then measure around the fullest part and add a certain number of inches. Using these instructions, I ended up with a size I had never seen before. Seriously, could I be a size P? What?! I tried holding the measuring tape tighter to get a better measure in case I was accidentally adding inches somewhere, but nope, size P it was. Can it be possible that I’ve been purchasing the wrong size my entire life?! Worse yet, I’d never seen a size P. Momentarily, I was caught off guard with self-doubt. According to this measuring chart, I was an unheard of abnormality.
Finally pulling myself together, I realized I was not the Amazon woman of the bra-wearing community and decided to try another website. I suspect the first website was just someone’s idea of a prank because with the second site I finally obtained a legitimate measurement which appeared to fall within the first four letters of the alphabet.
Dignity, Dignity…Where Art Thou
As an aside, it is not very easy to measure yourself. Referencing Google proved to be necessary so I was standing completely topless in the office of my house. If indeed my laptop camera was spying on me, it got an eyeful. My dogs were thoroughly confused. I’m pretty sure my crazy antics were a topic of discussion at the local dog park. In fact, one of dogs ran terrified from the room during a particular moment of wrestling with the tape measure.
Not willing to invest a lot of money in my first undergarment foray, I headed to our local big box store. With a deep breath, I grabbed the first bra I saw with a pretty color and adequate support without appearing frumpy. After a momentous struggle with my inner self, I accepted the fact that I was going to be wasting money in the quest to discover a style I liked. Mind made up, I breezed through the cashier and expelled the breath I had been holding. I did it! I finally bought something for myself.
On reflection, it’s ridiculous how much emotional effort spending money on myself seems to require. Definitely, this personality defect is going to require some more self-reflection. My psychology-minded brain would like to know what kind of therapy would address this issue. Shopping exposure therapy? The patient is forced to go to the mall every day and buy something until they can whip out their debit card without breaking eye contact with the salesperson. Complete cure would resemble the patient dashing off to the dollar store for every seasonal holiday buying celebratory items that light up.
Getting the bra home, I decided to try it on for size. Guess what! After all that hassle, I bought the wrong cup size. I had an inkling to double check when I was faced with my breasts surfacing close to my chin and medieval corset-style cleavage. I am still not sure how I managed that. In my anxious state, I must have focused on the torso measurement and blocked out everything else.
But I will wear it because I can’t bear to waste money and the store doesn’t accept returns on bras so if I look a little perkier than usual, it’s not from my third cup of coffee.
My conclusion is that maybe a bra was reaching higher than anticipated. The adventure towards clothing improvement continues…tomorrow I go for a haircut. Stay tuned.