After losing about 30 pounds since my last bra fitting, I decided Sunday it was time for another. My bras, especially the bands, didn't fit, and you're supposed to get fitted after you lose 20 pounds (or gain it), so down to Dillards I went.
The little (and I mean teeny, tiny) girl with the hot pink measuring tape takes me back into the dressing room and whips off her measuring tape. 34 . . . OK, I figured that. I was a 36 the last time. But then she measured my booms. . . H.
That's like stripper sized, stripper with big implants sized even. Like bigger than Pamela Anderson, who's only a 36DDD.
What normal woman is that size? I felt like I should take myself down to one of the local strip clubs and see if they needed a dancer, although I don't have the tummy for it really.
Best of all, they only carried one bra my size at Dillards, and they're the only department store that carries them at all, which means I'm going to have to buy all my bras online now, without trying them on.
This does pretty much decide though. I'm getting them cut off. I'm so over boobies.