I thought maybe when I finally decided to update my blog once again, it might be about something deep or important, but this is me we’re dealing with, so… really. Boobs. Of course.
So, okay. I have boobs. Two of them. I’m mostly indifferent to them, because I’ve had them since I was 10, which means that I’ve been lugging them around for 20 years, and at this point, my attitude is that, well, whatever. They’re there. Despite the fact that I had to start wearing a training bra when I was in the 5th grade, I never really was a particularly large-chested girl. I wasn’t flat-chested either, just kinda… in between. Even though in most ways, I was done growing by the time I was 13 or 14 (I hit my permanent height of 5’6″ in eighth grade or maybe the beginning of 9th grade and never grew another inch), my boobs have experienced a few unexpected growth spurts since then.
I don’t really know what this is all about. It happened twice while I was in my 20s, and I thought it was a little weird, but then discovered that this apparently happens sometimes independent of weight gain or anything, just waking up and noticing that “Ta-da! My rack is bigger!” Pretty much. And it wasn’t really that big of a deal, because mostly the changes were subtle, although by the time I’d gone through the second spontaneous boob embiggening, I had gone up an entire cup size. So I started my 20s at one size and ended them at another. Fine, boobs, if that’s the way you want it to be, then okay, sure.
Having thought of my 20s as Puberty 2: Electric Boogaloo, I figure that this is okay and probably happens to several people and I dealt with it and bought new bras last summer and everything was fine. But I’m 30 now, so my 20s are happily a thing of the past. And because I’ve been 30 for six whole months now, I’m a pro at being 30, and I figured perhaps now I am entering the phase of my life when I could stop worrying about things like my boobs spontaneously getting bigger, because while I understand that our bodies change until we die, don’t we ever just get to settle in a little bit? I thought perhaps. But then, this past week happened. And if this past week were to have a theme, it would be OH FUCKING HELL. And I can deal with all of that okay because life has turned me into a tough broad, but on top of everything else, I really didn’t need all of my bras to be suddenly and uncomfortably too small. I mean, cut me a little slack, life. Okay?
So, it’s not like wearing a bra is that great anyway, and I don’t know about anyone else, but that moment at the end of the day when I can finally take the damn thing off is probably the best thing about wearing a bra. But wearing a bra that’s too small is a singularly uncomfortable experience, one that seems to involve a lot of squirming and adjusting all day long. I got a few hours into my Monday, and thought to myself “I wonder if I accidentally shrank (shrunk?) this when I washed it.” It seemed to be a reasonable possibility. And I could deal with it for a day. But then on Tuesday, different bra, same problem. And I KNEW that one didn’t go into the dryer, so I thought “Really? Again?” And finally, on Friday, after sneaking off to the bathroom to readjust the girls, I thought “Huh.” (And I also looked at myself in the mirror and thought, “This sweater makes my boobs look fantastic.”) (And then I readjusted the bra again and thought, “I wish this bra didn’t have to be such a jerk.”) (And then I thought maybe it was time to leave the bathroom.)
Basically the point is that I was in need of some new bras.
I hate bra shopping. Though does anybody really enjoy bra shopping? It’s such an annoying chore, especially if you dare to look for something specific. Like, okay. I just wanted a plain black bra. I didn’t want anything too fancy because I like to be able to wear bras under knits without the lumps or bumps or fuss that basically announce to the world, “Hello! My breasts are covered in ribbons!” Simple. I am a fan of simple. I mean, I understand that there are times for fancy underwear, but most of the time is not one of those times. So why is it so hard to find a simple black bra that isn’t an old lady bra but also doesn’t have those micro-thin straps that dig into the shoulders? WHY? And why are they all padded now? People. I do not need a padded bra. It’s not like I have an enormous rack, because I don’t, but, um, it’s… it’s… substantial enough on its own without additional padding, okay? I can’t wear turtlenecks all year long, and already, anytime I wear anything with a scoop neck or a V-neck, I have to wear a camisole, because basically, the height difference between my desk at work and anyone over 4 feet tall who might approach it is such that whoever does approach it and might be so inclined basically gets a free view down my shirt. And really, I’ve already had enough of weirdo crazy guys looking at my boobs in my dating life, so I don’t need it in my professional life too.
So anyway, I hate bra shopping and I try to avoid it as much as possible, but there are times when it is necessary. Like now. I have a hard time with it, because I always have in mind what I’m looking for and then I have to be horribly disappointed by the fact that what I’m looking for doesn’t exist. Things are always too fussy or the wrong color or padded, and then when I finally find something that might work, it’s always the wrong size, though I’m sure 8th grade me would’ve appreciated the large selection of B-cups. It’s just a neverending string of frustrations, all to find something supportive and not horrible. Which also sounds a bit like dating, come to think of it.
All that written, my latest foray into bra shopping has a happy ending, and now all I need is for my boobs to stay the same size. I’m not pregnant (and have no intention of ever being pregnant, either) and I’m not gaining weight, and even though sometimes before my period starts I tend to retain water as though water retention were an Olympic sport and I was going for the gold, I don’t think I retain all that water in my boobs, so it should be fine, right? Or should I expect this to continue happening on a sporadic basis until I can’t stand upright?
I’m turning to you with these important questions, Internet, because you know everything.
So in case you’ve been wondering, that’s what’s been going on with me: spontaneous boob growth and subsequent frustration. I hope you and your racks are fantastic.