This is my full and complete collection of bras. I share these marvelous contraptions with you today for two reasons: the first being that I went bra shopping today and bought the one on the lower right and Mia told me to write about my experience, and two because I wore jeans and a tee today and need to get back in the habit of posting.
Most of these bras were actually bought within the life time of this blog. In fact, I’m pretty sure all of them except the heavily misshapen white one at the top are less than a year old. This is largely because not too long before we started the blog, my last batch of bras unceremoniously all decided to fail at the same time. When I started shopping for bras, I dearly desired bras that were not only functional but also pretty, which was a difficult task when I first started looking.
You see, there’s this cut off line between bra-sizes-you-find-at-walmart and get thee to the internet/Victoria’s Secret/cacique/lingerie sales on ideeli. And I’ve been comfortably above that line since Braden and I started dating and I gained my happiness weight and my body changed. Largely(ahur), cute patterns are rare/more expensive/not compatible with my typical t-shirt wearing ways. But, with a little bit of skill/commitment, I’ve managed to amass a suitable collection of bras for most occasions.
I almost always seek out molded cups, not just because they’re easier to find than non-molded cups in DD and up, but also because they are sooo much better for dancing. I understand that stationary boobs are not for everyone, but it makes a huge difference in my ability to lindy hop comfortably for a bra to have a molded cup. And since I don’t even own appropriately sized sports bras, my day-to-day bras have to hold up to that.
I’ll wrap up with my experience today. I walked in to a Victoria’s Secret, and immediately spoke to a salesperson. Why? Because frankly, they are trained and know more about bras than I will ever need to. I was offered a fitting, but declined because I’d recently measured myself anyway. I then noted that I needed something with crossing straps in the back for my wedding dress, and got the little squee that I’ve come to expect from telling any lady person about my upcoming nuptials. She handed me a few options to try on, and weighed them against each other. (One didn’t come in cute colors but had a ridiculously deep plunge; the one I did get came in so many options, and had a sufficient plunge, but doesn’t have fully removable straps). I tried them on, and was utterly delighted by exactly one of my options, so I bought it.
The only downside was that the store was out of the discrete bags you can normally ask for, and as I’d already gotten my street harassment fix, I wandered to the Old Navy and got an extra large bag from the all-too-understanding (male!) cashier to hide my stupid hot pink bag in.
Let’s hear your fun/terrible/heartening/blood-boiling stories about bras in the comments!