The boobs are always the first to go!

Posted on 24 January 2009
Tags: Uncategorized

Hey, all, how are ya? I hope each and every one of you had a fabulous holiday season and that you’re all excited and motivated to move forward into this new year. I know I am!!! 2009 is gonna be the best one yet…I can feel it in my bones.

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve blogged…basically ’cuz I’m pretty much a bad girl…that and the fact that 2008 almost ran me over like a fat girl rolling down hill. I have a postcard above my desk that so depicts the kind of year I had. It has a picture of a guy running and behind him is this huge ball…about 2 stories high…rolling right on his heels. And the caption says, “Sometimes I’m not sure if life is trying to pass me by or run me down.” You ever felt like that? Yeah, I thought so…most of us have. But then at the end of the day, we pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and we go back out to fight the good fight. 2009 is a new year, so let’s all go fight that good fight…it’s our year to win and win big, baby!

I know…sounds like a half-time talk in the locker room, doesn’t it? Oh, and speaking of half-time talks, how ‘bout them Cardinals! Woo Hoo…you go, boys!!! Kick some Steeler butts!

Okay, now on to a more serious subject…well, about as serious as I can ever be. J I want to tell you all about my latest personal improvement project. I’ve had lap band surgery in an effort to take off about 100 pounds of unwanted weight. The surgery went very smoothly, not a single issue or problem, and the weight is starting to melt off…29 pounds since December 14. Woo Hoo!!! But the downside (or is it an upside) is that I must now begin shopping for new clothes. So where do you start when faced with replacing your wardrobe? Well, the bra, of course…because everyone knows that the boobs are the first to go. The boobs, the feet, the neck…all the first to go, the first to sag, the first to look like a 3-day old helium balloon…limp and hanging low. LOL Why is it that we can’t first lose it in the stomach or the butt or the hips…those places that would make your tight clothes fit better? Nooooo…we have to put up with chicken chins, boobs that get pinched in our belts, and shoes that flop as we walk. Crap! There is no justice!

Anyway, I went shopping the other night for bras and was soooooooo excited about getting down into a smaller size…maybe something cute or a pretty color. I’ve never had a colored bra before…other than the standard white, beige, or black…so something red would really make my day. So with hope in my heart, I walked into the first store…fully prepared to spend hours and hours going from store to store until I found one that fit. That’s just what bra shopping is.

I walked in and was immediately approached by a clerk who asked if she could help. I explained that I had recently lost a bunch of weight and the girls were hanging low and there were big empty folds in my bra that I was tired of filling with a pair of heavy winter socks. She was young and seemed a little stunned by the idea of socks in my bra, but she rolled with the punches nicely and offered to measure me. Okay…now we’re getting somewhere. I was on my way to bra heaven. When she pulled the tape measure around me at a point that was supposed to be just below my boobs, I asked her why she was measuring my waist. She blushed and said she wasn’t…that was where the bottom of the bra would go and sometimes it dropped a bit as we aged. I was still trying to recover from that when she announced a number that was 2 inches smaller than the old number…okay, I could live with the “age” comment…I was 2 inches smaller…wooo hooo…count ‘em…2 inches. Oops…now the cup size. Well, that didn’t fare so good. I was also a size smaller in the cup size. Just not fair!

As I stood there trying to console myself over the loss of a cup size, she loaded me up with bras and steered me toward the dressing room. Okay, I could live with the loss of a cup size. So I went into the little hot box to try on the new bras. And while I’m here…what the hell is it with those stores that they can’t figure out a way to air condition the dressing rooms? It’s like stepping into a little dark box with no air, no oxygen, and a mirror that makes you look like Marilyn Monroe. If they’d just cool those things off a little bit, I’d hang around longer…’cuz I know as soon as I get home, Marilyn’s gonna disappear.

Okay, now I don’t get into a bra like anyone you know. First of all, I have a bad shoulder, so I can’t reach around and fasten the hooks in the back with any accuracy or a finish time in anything less than an hour. And in that little hot box, I damn sure can’t hook it in the front and slide it around to the back without taking off half my skin and leaving something like rug burns beneath my boobs. So I hook it and set the straps first, then I put it on over my head like a shirt. Worked okay with my old bras. Somehow, it never translates the same to new ones. First, all the new bras have underwire support…something I didn’t have (or need) in my old ones…but probably a good idea these days. Second…it’s damn hot in there and I’m in a hurry to get out and breathe. So I pull the first bra on over my head and the first thing it does is twist itself upside down and hook itself under one tit. Crap! By the time I got my poor boob out of that torture device and got the damn thing turned right side up, I knew exactly what the old phrase “got your tit caught in a wringer” meant. Trust me…a wringer would not have been any more painful than an upside down underwire with your girls caught in its grip!Once I managed to get the bra righted and the boobs stuck in it the right way, I found the damn thing sitting out on the end like a pasty. So much for measuring! Okay, the damn underwires were doing their job and the boobs were “lifted” mightily…but they were having a damn hard time trying to cram themselves into those size smaller cups. Hallelujah!!! I hadn’t lost a whole cup size after all…it was party time! So I called to the clerk and asked if she could bring me one with the larger cup size…and you know in your heart that I made sure I said it loud enough for everyone in the store to hear me. No slacker here! I got cupsize!!! You go, girl…you’ve still got it.

Now, you might think that was the end of the story…but (once again), you’d be wrong. You see, the celebration was rather short-lived. When the second set of bras fit perfectly, I was sooooooo excited…then I found a sale rack that had the very same bras on it…only they were in gorgeous, bright colors and half price. OMG…bra heaven!!! This was a first…first store, second bra, same cup size, pretty colors, half price…where’s the camera? I know there’s a camera somewhere…I’m being punked, right? I don’t even freaking care…I am in B-R-A H-E-A-V-E-N !!! Bra freaking Heaven!

Then the silly little clerk with the perky young boobs opens her mouth again when I mention that the larger cup size fits perfectly. She points out that sometimes it’s hard to measure the cup size if the old bra is no longer providing “good support”.

Translation…your boobs were sagging so low, old woman, that I couldn’t get a good measurement.

If she hadn’t been so right, I might’ve knocked her on her skinny, perky little ass. Oh well, I’m still 2 inches smaller and wearing the same cup size with just a few little empty wrinkles…certainly not enough for a pair of heavy winter socks…maybe a light pair of knee-highs, but definitely not the heavy crews. And I’ve decided I’m staying with this cup size until the 1970’s leg warmers I’ve still got in my sock drawer will no longer do the trick…

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. Hang on tight now, ‘cuz we’re gonna go real, real fast!

Love ya.

Kayce