Hmpf.
Last night I had to go pick up a bra to wear to The Wedding. I honestly don't have a clue what size bra I wear, and I've taken some measurements and tried some bras on and none of them seem to fit right. However, I decided to go with what I thought was the correct measurement after putting my measurements in on line--a couple of sizes larger than I thought and than I was wearing.
Well, The Ladies were lovin' the bra I tried on since they had room to breathe, but no real support, I'll be quite honest. So I had the salesgirl go get me a bra in the size I was currently wearing.
Too big again.
I've gone down a cup size. My sister had a lot of fun strapping me into that torture chamber (only a man would have invented a long line strapless bra), but The Ladies are slowly deflating...
I cursed her out for making me go on a diet--she suggested that if I was that stressed out about a dress, I could diet for 6 weeks up to her wedding and then go back to doing what I wanted afterwards... She said it was all my fault I joined Weight Watchers and it was actually working.
Then we started snickering, but I could scarcely breathe so we had to stop.
I'm going to look hot in that dress, which came on Friday and which I L-O-V-E love. And I'll love not wearing it when it gets too big :-)
Square One, All Over Again
6 years ago
1 comment:
Okay, I'm about to admit something I've not said out loud (or typed out loud) before. And for the guys, this is TMI. Sorry.
Two weeks before joining WW, I went to a nice little swanky lingerie boutique in Hotlanta and got measured. Try a 48G. G!!!! G!!!! (I was really an F-and-a-half, but....)
Six months and 60 pounds later.... 44D. Oh yeah, the girls deflated awfully fast. Right now, I'm in a 36 or 38D (depending on the style) and quite frankly, the only thing that's making it a D is all the extra flab that my boobs have now become.
The breast lift is the part of the body surgery I'm looking forward to most. (But check with me tomorrow -- it could be the batwings).
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