My Cups Runneth Over

Can there be anything more traumatic for a "large-cupped" woman than bra shopping? Oh, I don't think so.

Buying a bra for a 38D - DD woman is a miserable job at the best of times. Pretty goes out the window. Utilitarian is often the best you can hope for. Oh, my kingdom for a feminine, lacey bra!

Every six months or so, I drink several cups of coffee to gird myself, slap myself in the face briskly, and set off to "the mall". Ugh. My quest is to find at least one, and possibly two, bras that will not bind, chaffe, squish, divide into quarters, cause to droop, or otherwise mutilate my boobs. Now you wouldn't think that this is such a difficult task. After all, you've all been in the department stores that have rack upon rack of bras in every conceivable colour and style: black, white, navy, red, pink, mauve, ivory, yellow, and even combinations of two...in lace, or without; demi-cups, full cups, push-ups, minimizers, and the newest trend: the "almost" bras..."almost A", "almost B", etc. WTF?Shoulderstraps: padded or not? Adjustable or not? And the last, but most important .... those with and without ..... the dreaded underwire.

I don't believe there's anything I hate more in a bra than the dreaded underwire. Never have I been more abused by any portion of a piece of clothing than that wire in a bra that is supposed to support my girls and keep them looking young and happy! Instead, I spend my time with my elbows out to the side, desperately trying to keep the wire from jabbing me in the ribcage and causing me to bleed out while standing at a check-out counter in the 7-11 paying for my slurpee.

Anyway...

I enter the first store confidently, thinking that after all these years (months?) there must have been some changes, and that finally (!!) there will be that "perfect" bra just waiting for me to pick it up, try it on, swoon over it's softness and loveliness, and take it home in every colour. Sure. I'll let you know when that happens.

So, I commence "The walk"....up and down past each aisle, checking every single rounder, examining ALL bras. This one is cute: doesn't come in my size. This one comes in my size: shoulder straps don't adjust-this means my boobs hang out in my front pockets. Ooo, this looks like it has potential! I begin examining it, and as I finger the lace, it begins to shred the skin on my fingers; uh, maybe not. Next rounder.

Oh, this stack has ALL lacey bras! There we go...not my size, not my size, not my size, not my size...wait...wait...nope, not my size....(sigh)...not my size...here's one! Oh, this one has a seam right across the front of the bra. WHY???

Moving on, I hit the racks with the "utility bras". I know I'll find something in my size, but this is NOT going to be something to attract my husband, but rather to keep my boobs caged like baboons at a zoo. But we look anyway, and pick out something that looks moderately less ugly than the rest: Adjustable shoulder strap, relatively soft cup, dreaded underwire, but it 'seems' padded. We'll take that one, and grab the 38-D. Next!

Above me, there's rack after rack of models, displaying what appear to be perfectly-fitting bras on abundantly-gifted forms. Why don't these fit ME like this? Well...they're plastic, bo, they're plastic. I scan them, and the sad realization hits me that I've tried on every freakin' one of 'em. Back to the rounders.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a dreamy lacey creation on the bottom rack....it's white, with soft lace allllll over. It's got underwire, but it's padded. There are no seams. The shoulder straps are adjustable. How can this be? Oh my! My hands reach out, in awe, and set it ever-so-gently on my arm .... I'll look for more, but I know that this ... this is my brassiere perfection! Without even trying it on, I know it's going to cup me so gently, so lovingly! My husband will stand and stare! Oh!

But I must take more than two bras, so I keep looking.

And I find half a dozen more, each with a flaw: it's too stiff, it's not pretty, the straps don't adjust enough, but I DON'T CARE. I have my beauty, cradled under my arm!

Before I hit the dressing room, I find one more pretty leisure bra, worn more for "fun" at night than support. I grab it and take it with me-what the hell! The straps don't adjust, and I'll have to hoist my puppies above my waist band, but it looks comfy. All in all I've got 30 minutes worth of trying on to do. And I know I'm saving the best for last......

The leisure bra comes first. It's actually pretty, and soft, and it fits. I have NO use for it. It offers no support, and all it does is cover me. What the hell is this thing for? I suppose I could wear it in bed, if I was going to wear one to bed. Hm, we'll put it on the "maybe" pile, just because it's comfy. Sometimes I like to wear things in hotels, etc.

I move into the "real" bras, and this is where the "real" problems start:

The cursed underwires. I slip into the bra, bend over, and grap a boob. I shove that bugger up into the cup. Then I grab the other one and shove it into the other cup. I jiggle. I juggle. Then I stand. I look into the mirror and ... WTF? Only half of each tit is in the cup. What the HELL is this? Bend over again...shove 'em back in again .... this is NOT working the way I'd planned. This IS the right size? Ya? Ok, forget this one. NEXT.

Round the waist, slide it up, over the boobs. Try a different tac this time. Shove 'em in from the top. Further down. Further. Now the other side. Stand up. Look. Uh oh. There it is: the dreaded four-boob phenomenon:.two IN the bra, two out on top. This does NOT bode well. Then I realize that the bras I'm trying are of a make that are generally smaller-fitting than most. I breathe a sigh of relief and grab a different one. I didn't really like these anyway. The pointy cups made me look like Wonder Woman.

Ah, this is MUCH better. This one is going on like a bra should fit. I'm deliberately NOT looking in the mirror. I want it to be a surprise. I'm facing backwards. Everything gets shuffled and shoved and stuffed .... it's all in. I turn around and...oh dear gawd. When did I become someone's grandmother??? The cups are aimed like bazookas, straight ahead, with seams across the front of the cups, and ripples in the seams .... this is possibly the UGLIEST fitting bra I have ever had the misfortune of putting on.

One after another I go through them. The pile is growing, and so far I have one leisure bra that I really don't need, one left to try, and "The One".

So the second to last: I go back to my original method of trying. Slip into it, bend over, shove the girls in, stand up, grimmace, bend over, shove some more and think, "Hm, maybe, if absolutely NOTHING else works out, this one MIGHT work".

But I still have, "The One".

I push everything else off to the side and remove it from it's hangar, fingering the soft lace lovingly. It's got a tiny little pink rose at the center, and I touch it. I've never been one for little rosy accents, but I'll put up with it for this bra! Gently I unhook it and lay it flat, just to take one more look. I inhale, and close my eyes. This is it! With shaking fingers, I slip it on, hooking each eye carefully, and sliding my arms into each strap. One last time I bend down to lift each plump breast into it's soft lacy home! But...

It's not ... quite ... going ... in ...

I must have something twisted somewhere. I've been the same size for years! And yet the horrible has happened. They won't go in. THEY WON'T GO IN! In desperation, I bend and shove, shove and bend, shovelling and pushing, willing them to shrink in some manner! NO NO NO NO NO! This can't be happening! This is The One! Grunting and wheezing, I finally stand, and look: and the finality of it sets in: it does not fit. I have waited til the end, to find that my wonderous, soft, enticing bra, does NOT FIT. My cups do indeed, runneth over.

Don't panic. I'll just get a cup size bigger. It's ok! I can do that! It's not the end of the world! A bigger cup size. Odd, but not unheard of. Ok. So out I go to search again. Through the rack again and again and again and the most hideous, most painful, most ironic of all:there IS no cup size bigger.I must look at it, dream over it, and leave it behind...

And walk away, dejected...with a couple "potentials" and a leisure bra...and the dream of what almost was.