I've never been measured for a bra. Never. I picked a size that was "pedestrian", always on the shelves and seemed to fit well enough, and sounded like a reasonable size for me. From my knowledge of ZERO on bra sizing. Now, my weight has been all over the map. I've been 35-40 lbs. heavier than I am now. But I always wore the same size, no matter what - a 36B.
B must stand for Bumbling Idiot.
Made hubby walk with me into a store that makes my skin crawl, the equivalent to a teeny-bopper disco. Victoria's Secret. What exactly is the secret? I don't know, I can't hear myself think in there, my sense of smell is overpowered by stuff that I only assume Strawberry Shortcake and Friends would smell like if they had just run a marathon after eating 5,000 lbs. of gummy bears. It's no secret that the store sucks ass, however, the women I encountered were lovely.
First, I asked how I would be able to get measured. We found a lovely young lady with a measuring tape around her neck, much like This Guy. Ok, I'm kidding. She didn't look as comfortable in her own skin, but still, she measured me. Newsflash - I'm not a 36B. I'm not even close. I'm a 32DD. WHAT? I'm not "big". But, from what I've learned in my adventures at the most gag-a-riffic smelling store ever (besides those smelly Body Smelling Stores, with the plumeria this and vanilla that and rose crap - none of which smells like the actual names, but more like Willy Wonka's shit, since he only ate candy!) is that it's the difference between the band (she said I'm "teeny", heh) and the largest part of your cup. We settled on a 32D since the rippling on my mastectomy side needs to be contained. Plus, I feel weird buying a DD. Seriously. I was an E cup while pregnant and nursing. How I thought I went back to a B after, even though I didn't exactly shrink back down, is a mystery. Or a reflection on my budget - who has money for bras? Not me, back then. So I stuffed myself into my 36B's of yesteryear and rode off into my denial. Until now.
I've bagged up my bras for the Goodwill. Certainly, someone must be a 36B who will benefit from my used brazzeiredom? I once tried to make a donation to a woman's shelter - a really nice jogging stroller. They wouldn't take it. A free stroller. Only a few years old. So, it's Goodwill or Salvation Army.
Of course, do you think I bought a bra at VS? No. I had to get the hell out of there. The fitting room chick was lovely as well. I handed her my telltale card, expecting her to laugh at the fact that it has such a large cup notated, but she nodded and said, "Yup. You're definitely a DD or a D". They're the experts. So I explained my lack of nipple, the rippling of the skin and having to keep 'em firmly in place. She suggested a D to try out, brought me 4 styles, and VOILA! I looked like... a woman! The first one I tried on, I honestly got choked up. It was one of the first times since this whole mess started that I thought, maybe I can be beautiful again. Not that cancer makes one ugly, but the ordeal makes you feel as if your womanhood has been completely removed. I'm speaking for myself, but know others share in this sentiment. I didn't even lose my hair, but I lost a breast, I still have burn marks from radiation, I have a big freaking scar over what is not an actual breast, a scar in my armpit where they stole my lymph nodes, ripples in my Foobie whenever I bend over or move, hormone therapy that is making me hot flash and lose my period in my early 40's. Yep. Womanhood has lost points in my brain, but perhaps, with the 5 new bras I've ordered online (perhaps a bit extreme, but they were so cute!!!), I will be able to trick myself into feeling like a complete woman again.
I don't know if my period has stopped completely or is just being a little bitch, but technically it should have arrived Sunday. Wicked cramps Friday, followed by... nothing. I can't lie, it would be nice to not deal with it, except that I know that's wrong for my body at my age. And cancer is wrong enough.
ps. Even though I have 5 pretty bras in the mail... FUCK YOU, CANCER.
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