When Your Cups Runneth Over

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????Apparently, I’m wearing the wrong size bra. And, to my chagrin, have been for years. This little nugget came to me while in the dressing room at a local swanky store known for it’s lingerie department. Where the saleswomen are skilled, overzealous, and without any concept of modesty.

The young, perky saleswoman, let’s call her Amber, parked herself in my dressing room and “sized” me up with her eye-balls. She used the measuring tape to confirm what she already knew.

With one swift move she removed the selections I brought with me and said she’d be right back with my proper size, a blah blah.

Well, there is just no way, NO WAY AT ALL. This can’t possibly be true. Her measuring tape must be wrong.

Yes, I might have gained a few (or ten) pounds over the last few years. But, I’m pretty sure they distributed themselves mostly around my muffin-top and derriere. I mean, I am not completely blind, I did notice I was looking, shall we say, a bit more abundant. And I thought the discomfort was just acid reflux.

So I tried on the new, larger bras. They fit perfectly. It was like an outer body experience. I finally asked Amber if I could have a moment alone. “When did all this happen?” I kept asking myself over and over shaking my head in disbelief. Ungrateful that my cup runneth over.

As a former card-carrying member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, I never thought I would see the likes of this. Most of my youth was spent wondering if I was adopted praying my “girls” would finally grow. I wasn’t greedy or anything, even half the size of my Aunt Betty would have been fine.

Creeping to the cashier, I realized I had finally joined the racks, I mean ranks, of my bosomy relatives.

The lesson here?

Careful what you wish for.

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11 thoughts on “When Your Cups Runneth Over”

  1. Ha! I remember being a kid and seeing a picture of my bigger-busted grandmother when she was younger, and she was flat as a board. At the time, I was flat as well, and took that as a sign of hope. But like you said, be careful what you wish for.

  2. I went into the bra shop once to be measured after losing 20 pounds. The woman told me pointing to each side, “Well darlin’! You lost ten pounds here and ten pounds here!” Which was a bummer, because I had kind of been hoping to lose the pounds from my muffin-top and derriere. 🙂

  3. Welcome to HO, Linda. Good post! Can you hear me chuckling? Been down the same BUMPY road. I was shocked a few years ago when a “fitter” in Nordy’s lingerie department said I needed to move up a cup size to accommodate some of the back and underarm flaps.I was resistant at first. How could this be, I wondered. Hadn’t I been the SAME size since I was 15? She was right, of course. I take no pride in being semi-voluptuous. Can’t take credit where it is not due as it’s more schmaltz than breast meat.

  4. You’re all hilarious! My one and only bra fitting happened at age 13 when, of course, I didn’t need one. As for you guys, I’ve always envied the ones who can gain 35 pounds and still wear their size 32 pants. It’s a mystery.

  5. The man are always looking to stay in their pants…. they simply shift the belt buckle a little south into the underbelly position in order to continue wearing their 34″ waist despite having a 42″ waist. Eventually, the pants just fall down or they wear suspenders

  6. Linda, at first I thought the whole focus of this article was a bust, but then I realized you’d given us ample things to think about.

  7. I shifted to pants with adjustable waistbands a bit ago. I told myself it was because I was between a 34 and 36. Total denial, of course, but man oh man is it more comfortable. This was a great piece!

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