Shopping woes

This is a blog post that I do not recommend for men. Men will not appreciate it. Men likely will not understand it.  Skip on over to that sports blog or joke blog, or the political blog that you like so much. Come back here another time. Bye now!

Okay, women, now that we are alone, I have to ask….do you hate to shop for bras as much as I do?

I loathe it.

Unfortunately, I have found that I have to do so once every few years. Today was the day.

It did not go well.

First of all, the bras that I am able to wear look absolutely nothing like the ones in the Victoria Secret ads.  Did you see the movie where the boys joke about the old lady bra that was someone’s mother’s bra? (I am sorry I can’t remember the movie name-I think it might have been in Animal House)

That is my bra. Well, that is not my exact bra, because obviously I was not there when it was filmed, and that was a long time ago, when my actual bras didn’t look like that, and…..well, you know what I am trying to say.

Anyway, it is very depressing to buy a bra. It is depressing to see what my sized bras look like. And it is extremely depressing to try on bras in a store fitting room.

Who designs these things, anyway? Have you ever looked at the underwire? I mean at the little piece that is inserted along the bottom of a bra to “lift and support” your boobs?  It is no longer actually made of wire, but it is a hard-but-somewhat-flexible length of plastic. When it breaks, as they inevitably seem to do, they poke right into you. Like a WIRE. Not comfortable.

And, who decided to put shaped foam into the cups? “Contoured shaping” they call it. It makes your chest look like it has a football cut at the little white lines on either end, then shoved up against either side of your chest.  I don’t see how that can look particularly enticing. Perhaps that is why men like football. The ends of the football seem so sexy.  I don’t know…….

In any event, my husband was with me while I was shopping today. I had to kick him out of the lingerie department, because it was just too creepy to have him there. For some reason, he is intrigued by this department. Perhaps he has seen too many Victoria Secret ads, or maybe he watches too much football. He had to go to other parts of the store to waste some time while I tried on bras. There was a lot of pressure to find a bra while he cooled his heels in the housewares department. I mean, how long can he stand to look at non-stick cookware?

There were only a few bras in my size. Those that were in that size were depressingly ugly. I am not sure why the manufacturers think we all want to wear muddy-water colored bras or the other choices of perky soft pink and nurses’ uniform white. And the larger the sizes, the uglier the color choices. I guess when we wear these sizes, it is assumed we have given up and don’t care about the color of our underwear.

After several tries, I gave up. I was cranky, tired and depressed even more than I had been when I started on the hated job of bra shopping. 

Gravity is a curse.

I came home and found two bras online. I figure the chance of finding a bra that fits by shopping online are about 1 in 10,000.  But it sure beats the other option.

You know what happens tomorrow? It is Sunday.  There will be Victoria Secret ads during half time of the football games.

I can’t watch.

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