The Girls

Boys, this might not be your favorite post, but I won't get too graphic.

So, I went bra shopping on Friday.

I hate bra shopping. Hate it. I always just know that I'm beet red the whole time. Nothing ever fits right and I'm always embarrassed to ask for help. I freaking hate it.

I knew this time going in that I was going to have to get over myself. Be brave. Pretend my little girl was with me (she was!) and set a good example for her. Boobs are normal for about 50% of the population. Needing something to contain the boobs is also normal. There is nothing to be scared of or embarrassed about.

So, I headed over to Victoria's Secret, promising myself some yummy PF Chang's if I could just get through the experience. I walked in, wandered around, feeling a little uncomfortable, until I found the style that I know I like. Then I wandered some more, plucked up my courage, and asked a salesgirl to measure me since I have NO CLUE what size I am. I mean, I didn't really know for sure before... now I REALLY didn't know!

She was nice. Took me into a corner. Measured me. 36D. D!!! 36-freaking-D!!!!!

I walked into that store wearing a 34 B. It was my "fat" bra. You know, from when my boobs were bigger when I was fatter. I've been wearing it since about my 3rd month. Before that, I was still happily ensconced in my A cup. A.

I have gained 3, count them, 3 cup sizes over the course of this pregnancy.

I could scarcely believe her. So I went back over to my little section, and I grabbed a 36C and a 36D, just in case she was over-estimating or something.

She wasn't.

I got into a dressing room and just ogled the cups on that D. No way my boobs would fit in there. There'd be a inch gap between the cloth and the boob! I mean, these things were GIGANTIC!!

Put the bra on. Fit like a freaking glove. Felt great, wonderful, supportive.

Wow. Just... wow.