It’s not like I enjoy wearing a bra. I refused to put one on until sixth grade when my PE teacher complained to the principal that he could see my boobs jiggling when I ran. They were that big. And he was that much of a stunted perv. (Stunted because he was horrified; perv because he was looking.) So the school made me wear a bra back when I was only a B cup. (And a B cup at age 12 is something noteworthy, I guess.).
For reasons I won’t go into here, I can’t wear one with underwires. That means that even now that I’ve been conditioned into feeling naked when my boobs are flopping along near my midriff, I get almost no support from what I do put on. Maybe they make them that work for people of my dimensions. But I haven’t found one yet. And I’m not looking that hard, because I’ve found a brand that offers a reasonable balance between comfort and support. They’ve even come down in price recently so I don’t have to pawn out my children anymore to buy one.
That said, I own a sufficient number of bras that I shouldn’t ever lose them all. Even if I can’t find a particular one at any given time, I ought to be able to grab a bra whenever I need one. But I can’t. It’s a given that if I want to go somewhere, I can’t lay hands on even one upper body foundation garment.
I’m sure it’s Freudian. I hate my bras. I don’t really want to find one. They’re scratchy in one place and pinchy in another, and as soon as I put one on, my breasts beg for release. “Comfort” is a relative term. But, aside from the ‘people are staring’ issue, the over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders do help distribute the weight, so that I’m breaking my shoulders, neck, AND back, not just my back alone, with my G cups.
While I have reached a point in my life where I own six or so that fit, I still yearn to find the perfect blend of price, comfort, and yes beauty. There, I said it. I want cute bras. I cannot find adorable bras in my size at all. Even the ones with a little lace are pretty industrial grade.
It goes without saying that I’m planning surgery. I’m only twenty pounds from my goal weight, and then my missiles are going back to the factory. And when I’m back to a perfectly normal C cup, I plan to buy Wal-Mart out of cheap, flowery, pastel, soft cotton braces. I’ll also raid the naughty section for matched sets of bright red, hot pink, lacy, gauzy, tawdry undergarments. When my bosom is less luxurious, I’ll be able to wear my bras strapless and banded. I’ll have sports bras and formal bras, casual bras for around the house, sleeping bras for going to bed, and I might even branch out into pasties. (Well, no. I won’t go that far. I’m not into taping sensitive skin.)
I know that women with small breasts yearn for large ones and vice versa, but my boobs and I are at war. Within the next year, I’m going down in size. And then, I know, I will find the perfect bra.