In The Halls of Random

For my birthday I had myself measured for a bra.  It is always best to see if you've grown or shrank or whatever.  For many years, I felt that I was a C cup size.  Somewhere along the way I graduated to a D cup...except when it's a molded cup.  Then I'm either a B or a C, but not a D, and certainly not a DD.  Don't get me started about the demis, the balconettes, the plunges.  How does that even work?  Is there some arcane aspect of physics involved in breast size?  Could this science be why men are so interested in mammaries? All this has made me realize that finding a correctly fitting bra requires some sort of college degree.  A doctorate.  A dissertation on why there are no CC bras would be a good start.

We have a little pool in the back yard, for Zane to splash around.  Except that we can't let it sit in one spot for too long, since it will kill the grass.  Also, standing water attracts mosquitoes, who lay their eggs in it.  Then there are the various accidental drownings which occur due to insects not realizing that the water is deep; bugs don't get swimming lessons, or learn to just float on their backs.  I tried to let some of the water out of the pool, and that was when I found out exactly how many cockroaches are in my backyard. Have I mentioned my morbid fear of cockroaches?  Here I am, barefoot, while these prehistoric monsters crawl toward me.  I did the only thing that I could, of course.  I leapt straight into the air and landed on the patio, a good two feet of distance.  Fear is a good motivator on occasion. 

Source: ohemmy.blogspot.com via Tina on Pinterest

I am supposed to have a Girls' Night Out to see the movie Magic Mike.  Not that I am all that into the whole stripper thing.  When I worked as a bartender at a club, they would have strippers come in on Fridays for the ladies.  Those guys were prissier than me, especially about their hair.   That sort of prissiness does not inspire lustful feelings, but it is interesting to observe the crowd behaviors.  I am joining my friends at this movie to show solidarity.   I am hopeful that there is a storyline to follow. 

I just finished World War Z.  It was interesting, if a bit disjointed.  That disjointedness may have come from my end.  Every time I started actually focusing on the book I was interrupted by a boy, or his dad.  That sort of thing is happening more and more often, so my reading time is becoming limited. I am hopeful that once Zane learns to read, we can have regularly scheduled reading time for both of us. 

My niece is about to embark on the gargantuan task of reading Stephen King.  It is certainly not for the faint of heart.  I started her off with Night Shift, small bites.  Although King's short stories scared me more than most of his novels.  I gave my niece The Shining also, so she can check into the Overlook hotel.  Then I tell her that the Overlook is a real place called the Stanley, and see if she wants to go there. Ghostbusters has nothing on my family!

So I am heading over to Stacy's place to drink her wine--looking forward to the sangria!





And I am also going to be visiting the lovelies over at Talk to Us Tuesdays

Blasts from the Past

NOTE: This was from another prompt of the Red Dress Club; we were supposed to write about finding a forgotten item in the back of our closet. I wrote in my notebook, and then promptly forgot about it. Seems a shame to waste it, so here it is.

I found a tiny piece of fabric on the floor underneath a box in the back of my closet the other day. I picked it up, thinking that it was something that had fallen from a dress. Then I felt the tell tale signs of an underwire. I looked closer. It was a black lace demi-bra. So tiny! I checked the size: 34A. I was momentarily taken aback. Was this MY bra? I cannot at first recall the last time I wore a size 34 bra, let alone an A cup.

Then it came to me, the memory of a perfect dress of formfitting black lace with the perfect black lace bra, panties, garter, and stockings to go with it. A night, so very long ago, when I looked exceptionally hot and knew it down to my bones. A night of confidence, when I didn't worry about whether I had something green on my teeth or whether my thighs were too fat. A night of dancing, laughter, and fun with my friends. Good times, I recall, and smile to myself. I pause. I cannot remember my date for that perfect evening, and as he was so easily forgotten, he must not have been all that wonderful.

I should have put the bra in with the clothes earmarked for Goodwill. I had every intention of doing so, of letting go of the distant past. But somehow the tiny bra stayed in my hand, and was lovingly put into the lingerie drawer. The dress is gone, but the bra shall remain, since it triggered such fond remembrance. Happy memories are like gold, and on my more melancholy days, I find that I have a need to remember the 'transgressions' of my youth, however incomplete those memories might be.

My Kingdom for a Good Bra

I read somewhere that most women are wearing the wrong size bra, and that this is not a good thing. I agree wholeheartedly that the wrong bra is a bad situation. When the straps keep falling off your shoulder or you are otherwise having to pull the bra down or move the cups or adjust your accoutrements constantly, the world is not a happy place.

I honestly don't think that this particular issue is entirely the fault of women. I am one of those who has actually measured myself according to the sizing recommendations of most companies. I am supposed to be a 40C. Should be a simple thing to walk into a store and buy a 40C, right?

Not. You also have to see if the bra is a pushup bra, or a minimizer, or for fuller figures(just freakin' say 'FAT'--we all know that's what you're thinking). There's a bra if you're wearing a t-shirt, a bra if you're wearing a strapless dress, and a bra if you're running a marathon, among other activities. There may even be a specific bra required if you get to serve tea to the Queen, for all I know. All of these different types of bras fit differently. So while a 40C in a minimizer bra might fit, a 40C in a pushup is a different story. And the only way to figure this out is to try them on, so I do. I end up buying anywhere from a 36D to a 42B, depending on the bra and my patience, but the bras I buy fit me when I leave the store.

I leave the store with bras that fit, check. Except they only seem to fit for one wearing. After that, the straps start to slide off my shoulders, the back rides up, the cups all of a sudden are too big, etc. What the heck is up with that, bra makers?

Case in point: I just bought one of those ASSETS bras that they sell in Target. This bra is supposed to be BRILLIANT, it says on the label. It has special hooks on the straps that are on the underside of the straps so that everything looks smooth on the outside. The back of the bra is a stretchy material so that everything back there is smooth underneath clothing. And the scrawny model wearing the bra looks very comfortable, which is definitely a good recommendation in my book.

Except that those hooks on the straps keep coming unhooked while I am wearing the bra. Which means that the straps become loose and...guess where I am going with this? I don't think that I have overly high expectations for bras. All I want is a bra that fits consistently, with straps that stay secure and a back that doesn't ride up, that makes me look exactly like one of those Victoria's Secret models. That isn't too much to ask, is it?

I nominate myself to be an official bra tester. If a bra fits me, and continues to fit me after a month or so, then it's a good bra and is ready for public consumption. If it does not meet those requirements, the bra is not acceptable and should be sent back to the factory. Maybe the bad bras could be recycled...I hear hats are making a comeback.