Good morning, Readers!
First, a message for everyone: I know I've been not the most cheerful person of late. The issue that I said was over (but not resolved. That would require something I doubt the person involved possesses) actually isn't. Apparently, being told point blank that I no longer wanted to hear from them was an open invitation to continually hear from them. The contact itself is fairly innocuous, but against the background of what led to my losing my temper (yay gaslighting) and then telling them that I didn't want to hear from them, every little bit is a new straw on the already-broken back of the proverbial donkey.
So, sorry for my grumpiness. I'm dealing with someone who will not respect my boundaries and it's taking its toll. I intend to turn my last post of the week to something cheerful, however. Or at least I'm going to attempt to. We'll see how it goes.
I'm still feeling kind of grumpy and sad.
Right. Here goes.
WARNING: This post is all about busty girl issues. If frank and open discussion of breasts, bras and bodies makes you uncomfortable, stop reading right this minute.
This one is for the busty girls out there.
First, a message for everyone: I know I've been not the most cheerful person of late. The issue that I said was over (but not resolved. That would require something I doubt the person involved possesses) actually isn't. Apparently, being told point blank that I no longer wanted to hear from them was an open invitation to continually hear from them. The contact itself is fairly innocuous, but against the background of what led to my losing my temper (yay gaslighting) and then telling them that I didn't want to hear from them, every little bit is a new straw on the already-broken back of the proverbial donkey.
So, sorry for my grumpiness. I'm dealing with someone who will not respect my boundaries and it's taking its toll. I intend to turn my last post of the week to something cheerful, however. Or at least I'm going to attempt to. We'll see how it goes.
I'm still feeling kind of grumpy and sad.
Right. Here goes.
WARNING: This post is all about busty girl issues. If frank and open discussion of breasts, bras and bodies makes you uncomfortable, stop reading right this minute.
This one is for the busty girls out there.
Image courtesy of bustygirlcomics.com. Click for link.
I went bra shopping for the first time in years and years and years yesterday. No, seriously. It's been years. It has been so long that I cannot remember the last time I went shopping for bras. It has been so damned long that all the bras I did own were full of holes, poking me in awkward places and making me bleed, and held onto me via safety pins. Yup. I was punk without the deliberate social commentary.
The truth is, I detest going shopping for bras (and clothes, but let's keep it on track today). Part of the reason is that I have a whole bunch of unresolved issues around spending money on myself. Many of these issues are self-esteem related (I don't deserve to have nice things), many of them are "I've been poor way too long" issues (I don't have the money to waste on luxuries (even though I sometimes do. Not often, but sometimes)) and all of them make absolutely no sense. I do deserve nice things and bras are not a luxury. They're a damned necessity. I know this, logically, but the issues run deep, man. So, so deep. It's always a struggle to do things like go clothes shopping, no matter how much I need new clothes. It causes me serious anxiety.
Meh. I'm working on it.
Funnily enough, I don't feel the same way when buying books. I feel guilty for spending the money, but it's a cheeky kind of guilt. I don't want to vomit before walking into a book store.
Anyway, I detest bra shopping for the stated anxiety and also because it has always been the most depressing experience in the world for me. Growing up, people of my measurements did not exist in large numbers, and so would be ignored by most underwear manufacturers. I would stare longingly at the fun bras; the red laces, the purple beads, the ribbons and fun patterns (Strawberries! Strawberries everywhere!) and know that I would never ever be able to wear them. They simply did not make fun underwear in my size. I had three choices of colour: black, tan, and white. Lace was a pipe dream. And forget about funky patterns.
It's like manufacturers did not believe that busty girls wanted to have as much fun as their smaller counterparts. In my fragile teenage psyche, it translated as busty girls not deserving to have as much fun as their smaller peers. Teenagers, man.
And of course, my limited choice was hideously expensive.
So, for all of these reasons, I felt a little like hyperventilating before heading into the Victoria Secret store that has recently opened in the Rideau Centre. I might not have gone in at all but for the Amazing Flatmate who came along for emotional support.
Ladies and, well, ladies, it was actually a really wonderful experience. First of all: THEY HAD MY SIZE! I cannot stress enough how much that means to me. It was hugely important for me. Granted, I was at the higher end of their stock. Had I been even one size larger, I would not have been able to buy anything. Again. As usual.
Now, I have lost a fair few inches since starting weight training (my chest measurement is down a full six inches since the last time I went bra shopping - which I think was during a particularly bad time in my life in which I continually sought comfort in the bottom of a packet of chips (so I had gained a fair amount of weight)), and I'm crediting that for the fact that I could actually try things in store and get a good sense of what works for me and what doesn't. Their selection in higher sizes is not great. They don't really go past a DDD, alas.
Lucky for me, though, I'm in the range. Sorry if you're not. I've been there and I know how much that sucks.
GIANT INTERNET HUGS FOR YOU.
Still, I was thrilled to even be able to try stuff on in store. This is a new experience for me.
And then, there was a really lovely change room attendant by the name of Jody (possibly Jodi, I don't know how she spells her name). British lady. Very nice. She was run ragged yesterday, as I recall, but she never lost her cheery tone and was so very helpful about proper fit and styles and so forth. I felt bad pressing the buzzer for her assistance (seriously, she sounded so busy), but she was awesome about it all, and she really helped me settle on the most appropriate size for me.
This store has a level of customer service that is completely alien to me as a customer. It was genuinely wonderful.
In the end, I bought three bras. Two of them are sensible. One of them is a funky colour and has rhinestones. That's right, I HAVE A FUN BRA! Ahem. Sorry.
It was far too much money. I'm still reeling from the cost. It's true, Victoria Secret is not cheap. However, I was in such dire need of new bras, so two of yesterday's haul were completely necessary. The fun bra was not. But I've never had a fun bra. I really wanted a fun bra.
Can I just tell you how much difference a well-fitted bra makes? In everything, though. Not just comfort - which is amazing, by the way (I'm wearing one of my sensible bras now, and it is so. damned. comfortable) - but in the way my body holds itself, in the support I get, the adjustment in back pain that I'm finding odd, and even in how the rest of my clothes fit. Seriously, my clothes seem to fit way better now. Because of all of this, I can walk out with confidence.
Instead of trying to hide my body the way I have always done, I'm feeling a little bit proud of it. Sure, it could use some work, but damn it if I don't look frakkin' great in this new bra.
It really does make all the difference.
Despite cringing still at spending money on myself - and so much money at that (it was an expensive trip) - I'm really glad I went out to get these new bras. I cannot recommend that all the ladies get well-fitted bras enough... If you can afford it. I know it's not always possible. I've been there too.
GIANT INTERNET HUGS FOR YOU!
The service at Victoria Secret, as well as how well made they're bras seem to be (grated it's all still very new for me), has ensured that I will be returning to get more bras. In a few months, though. I can't afford to go again for a while yet.
So, if you can, get good bras from a place that'll treat your girls with the respect they deserve! I have to go learn Welsh now, so I'll stop embarrassing you all with talk of breasts and bras.
Ciao!
The truth is, I detest going shopping for bras (and clothes, but let's keep it on track today). Part of the reason is that I have a whole bunch of unresolved issues around spending money on myself. Many of these issues are self-esteem related (I don't deserve to have nice things), many of them are "I've been poor way too long" issues (I don't have the money to waste on luxuries (even though I sometimes do. Not often, but sometimes)) and all of them make absolutely no sense. I do deserve nice things and bras are not a luxury. They're a damned necessity. I know this, logically, but the issues run deep, man. So, so deep. It's always a struggle to do things like go clothes shopping, no matter how much I need new clothes. It causes me serious anxiety.
Meh. I'm working on it.
Funnily enough, I don't feel the same way when buying books. I feel guilty for spending the money, but it's a cheeky kind of guilt. I don't want to vomit before walking into a book store.
Anyway, I detest bra shopping for the stated anxiety and also because it has always been the most depressing experience in the world for me. Growing up, people of my measurements did not exist in large numbers, and so would be ignored by most underwear manufacturers. I would stare longingly at the fun bras; the red laces, the purple beads, the ribbons and fun patterns (Strawberries! Strawberries everywhere!) and know that I would never ever be able to wear them. They simply did not make fun underwear in my size. I had three choices of colour: black, tan, and white. Lace was a pipe dream. And forget about funky patterns.
It's like manufacturers did not believe that busty girls wanted to have as much fun as their smaller counterparts. In my fragile teenage psyche, it translated as busty girls not deserving to have as much fun as their smaller peers. Teenagers, man.
And of course, my limited choice was hideously expensive.
So, for all of these reasons, I felt a little like hyperventilating before heading into the Victoria Secret store that has recently opened in the Rideau Centre. I might not have gone in at all but for the Amazing Flatmate who came along for emotional support.
Ladies and, well, ladies, it was actually a really wonderful experience. First of all: THEY HAD MY SIZE! I cannot stress enough how much that means to me. It was hugely important for me. Granted, I was at the higher end of their stock. Had I been even one size larger, I would not have been able to buy anything. Again. As usual.
Now, I have lost a fair few inches since starting weight training (my chest measurement is down a full six inches since the last time I went bra shopping - which I think was during a particularly bad time in my life in which I continually sought comfort in the bottom of a packet of chips (so I had gained a fair amount of weight)), and I'm crediting that for the fact that I could actually try things in store and get a good sense of what works for me and what doesn't. Their selection in higher sizes is not great. They don't really go past a DDD, alas.
Lucky for me, though, I'm in the range. Sorry if you're not. I've been there and I know how much that sucks.
GIANT INTERNET HUGS FOR YOU.
Still, I was thrilled to even be able to try stuff on in store. This is a new experience for me.
And then, there was a really lovely change room attendant by the name of Jody (possibly Jodi, I don't know how she spells her name). British lady. Very nice. She was run ragged yesterday, as I recall, but she never lost her cheery tone and was so very helpful about proper fit and styles and so forth. I felt bad pressing the buzzer for her assistance (seriously, she sounded so busy), but she was awesome about it all, and she really helped me settle on the most appropriate size for me.
This store has a level of customer service that is completely alien to me as a customer. It was genuinely wonderful.
In the end, I bought three bras. Two of them are sensible. One of them is a funky colour and has rhinestones. That's right, I HAVE A FUN BRA! Ahem. Sorry.
It was far too much money. I'm still reeling from the cost. It's true, Victoria Secret is not cheap. However, I was in such dire need of new bras, so two of yesterday's haul were completely necessary. The fun bra was not. But I've never had a fun bra. I really wanted a fun bra.
Can I just tell you how much difference a well-fitted bra makes? In everything, though. Not just comfort - which is amazing, by the way (I'm wearing one of my sensible bras now, and it is so. damned. comfortable) - but in the way my body holds itself, in the support I get, the adjustment in back pain that I'm finding odd, and even in how the rest of my clothes fit. Seriously, my clothes seem to fit way better now. Because of all of this, I can walk out with confidence.
Instead of trying to hide my body the way I have always done, I'm feeling a little bit proud of it. Sure, it could use some work, but damn it if I don't look frakkin' great in this new bra.
It really does make all the difference.
Despite cringing still at spending money on myself - and so much money at that (it was an expensive trip) - I'm really glad I went out to get these new bras. I cannot recommend that all the ladies get well-fitted bras enough... If you can afford it. I know it's not always possible. I've been there too.
GIANT INTERNET HUGS FOR YOU!
The service at Victoria Secret, as well as how well made they're bras seem to be (grated it's all still very new for me), has ensured that I will be returning to get more bras. In a few months, though. I can't afford to go again for a while yet.
So, if you can, get good bras from a place that'll treat your girls with the respect they deserve! I have to go learn Welsh now, so I'll stop embarrassing you all with talk of breasts and bras.
Ciao!
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