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9 August 2004 07:35 amIt's a good thing I get paid every other week rather than once a month. If it were any less often, I'd probably lose my motivation to get up and drag my ass into work every damn day.
So, yesterday, since I was at the mall buying yarn anyway, I did a little bit of bra shopping. Because I was out. Pretty much.
And I have come to the conclusion that either a) I have the most popular breast size on the planet, or b) the bra making industry believes people of my measurements to be an urban myth (what? no, real people aren't shaped like that! shove off!). I can find any number of bras that are too big for me, and even more that are far, far too small, but never in the history of my current cup size have I ever been able to find a good selection of bras that are my size.
It always starts the same: I go in looking for bras that I like and that are on sale. Then, I downscale my hopes for bras I like. Then I stop even looking at the front of the boxes and just read the sizes off the top, because mostly I want a bra that fits and so what if it looks like something my grandmother wore as a nursing bra fifty years ago?
So. Following the bra shopping frustration, I bought myself an ice cap from Tim Hortons and realised, as I was drinking it, that it was in fact my first ice cap of the summer. In August. I think that makes me a bad Canadian.
And now the caffeine has hit my system and I'm feeling prepared to take a stab at getting ready for work.
So, yesterday, since I was at the mall buying yarn anyway, I did a little bit of bra shopping. Because I was out. Pretty much.
And I have come to the conclusion that either a) I have the most popular breast size on the planet, or b) the bra making industry believes people of my measurements to be an urban myth (what? no, real people aren't shaped like that! shove off!). I can find any number of bras that are too big for me, and even more that are far, far too small, but never in the history of my current cup size have I ever been able to find a good selection of bras that are my size.
It always starts the same: I go in looking for bras that I like and that are on sale. Then, I downscale my hopes for bras I like. Then I stop even looking at the front of the boxes and just read the sizes off the top, because mostly I want a bra that fits and so what if it looks like something my grandmother wore as a nursing bra fifty years ago?
So. Following the bra shopping frustration, I bought myself an ice cap from Tim Hortons and realised, as I was drinking it, that it was in fact my first ice cap of the summer. In August. I think that makes me a bad Canadian.
And now the caffeine has hit my system and I'm feeling prepared to take a stab at getting ready for work.
