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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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The Demon With The Rack
So, yeah, here's a confession for you: I've got a big rack. And the topic today is bra shopping. And I'll bet you're wondering how to make bra shopping more hellish? Well, do it at the mall of course. Also? Try being a size like 38DDD, because that size? They don't make. At least, they don't make them so that they don't look like something that would light a spark in the heart of every grandmother who ever began a sentence with, "If you think you're leaving the house looking like that, young lady..." Because I'm talking some ugly, ugly bras here. I'm talking blinding white polyester bras with five lane hook-and-eye closures and three-inch wide padded straps and underwires that could, in a pinch, substitute for the steel girders used to build bridges. You want pretty lace in your brand new bra? Right. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you get that polyester satin rose sewn in as an afterthought between the two giant white cups. And you would think that finding a bra in our "no, doc, I'd like them at least three cup sizes larger" kind of world might be a little easier, right? Like maybe some of the more adventurous lingerie shops that cater to those post-surgery strippers? Right. You think that just because Frederick's of Hollywood carries feather boas and cuban heeled stockings and other assorted mythical lingerie that they're going to carry your size? Well, maybe they do, maybe they do, but do you really want to have to go in and deal with those super skinny salesgirls who look you up and down before telling you that, no, they don't have your size? And, aren't they darlings for suggesting that, for your size, that you might want to try the nearest "surgical lingerie shop"? I mean, they sell fucking crotchless panties (or those new $60 monstrosities they like to call underwear that are a waistband from which is suspended a string of beads meant to serve as a crotch) for chrissakes. Those girls should be unshockable. Unshockable. But just let the words "thirty-eight triple D" fall from your lips and it was as if you had parted your hair at the nape of your neck only to reveal the 666 you were saddled with at birth. So you end up at Sears, which is a lot like shopping at the Great K-Mart in Hell, because all their bras are all mixed together in one huge flea market-like jumble. All the bras are loaded onto racks by color, not size. I'm looking for a nice black bra, maybe with a bit of lace on the edge and all I'm finding are these little bits of lace and elastic with the tag reading something like 32AA, which I guess is the size worn by those women who are still blowing out the birthday candles and wishing for real breasts. I couldn't have gotten that thing over my nipple, much less over one breast. But cut to the fucking chase, Sublingua. Did you find a bra or didn't you? Yes. Yes. I went and tried on a half dozen "minimizer" bras and came up with a couple of 38DD's that fit--enough. They fit well enough. There is some spillage, but it's mainly confined to the outside edges, so I narrowly avoided the dreaded quad-boob look. And they were on sale. And one even has some black lace on the cup, so I'm happy. I'm happy that I found a bra. (Oh, that, plus I consoled what needed to be consoled by splurging on a big bottle of Chanel No. 5 to douse myself in.) So, tune in tomorrow, when Sublingua tries to find size 12 NON-thong panties to match.
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