Victoria's Secret

If you are a dude, you may just want to skip over this one...

I ventured into Victoria's Secret today. I NEVER shop there, but Mike gave me a gift card for them so I could finally get some well fitting bras. I went in with the intention of finding out my "true size". Current statistics say that most women wear the wrong size. Well, guess what? I must belong to the 6% of women who DO know my size. I am wearing the same exact size I that I was at least seven years ago. Surely this must wrong. After two pregnancies and two nursing children, I can assure you that, even if the numbers are the same, the distribution of the masses (or lack thereof) is decidedly different.

On a side note: I would rather have a root canal or a yearly visit to the girly doctor than go bra shopping. This is a fate worse than death for women who are less than gifted in that department. Need an ego blow? Go bra shopping I say.

I sauntered into the Pepto-pink store of lace and lycra with the best of intentions and a positive attitude. I passed the cheap nasty sweat pants with words sewn on the butt, and turned a blind eye from the cute yet impractical negligees that run approximately $95 per yard of fabric. I came for one reason and that was to search for the Holy Grail of a lifted and smooshed persona. (Seperating is not the desired effect for a small chick...cleavage is what we crave!) One extremely helpful attendent, 23 bras, three sizes, two hours, and $36 later, I finally escaped with exactly one bra that I was somewhat satisfied with and a resolution to save up the $5,000 needed to permanently alter this aggravating condition. I guess this can happen to any woman who tries on 23 bras in front of an unforgiving full length mirror.

To add to the aggravation, the size that I measure at is actually made, but most stores don't have any in stock. So oftentimes I have to cheat and wear "sister sizes". Even the fitting room attendant who fitted me wears my size and says she can NEVER find it. I am SO annoyed!