I went to get sized for a bra today. Which I thought would be like, “Oh, let me measure you. OK, you wear bra size [INSERT HERE]. From now on, you will go and buy that bra size and your boobs will look like miracle boobs no matter what because you know your bra size and you won’t ever even have to try on 600 different bras in one day just to find one that works.”
Sometimes I’m really bad at being female.
Instead it was more like, “Here try on all these bras of all these different sizes and THERE’S NEVER GOING TO BE A RIGHT ANSWER TO YOUR BRA SIZE SO JUST GIVE UP NOW AND BURN THEM ALL.”
And the lady DRESSED ME. Like I was on Downton Abbey n shit. That part I liked. Getting dressed by myself? Lame. Where can I hire someone to situate my boobs for me every morning?
And then did I buy any bras? No. Partly because the prices scared me. And partly because I think maybe Nordstroms doesn’t carry many bras in my size (whatever that is) so there wasn’t a lot of selection. But mostly because when I put my old bra on (by myself. laaaame.) the Heavens opened and the angels sang and I realized maybe I shouldn’t buy bras unless I hear angels first. Or maybe I’m thinking of realizing that I should take meds when I hear voices. Whichever.
At least I got a nice nudie picture of me for 7 Days. You’re welcome.