I am so tired of having big boob’s I could scream.  If I could have breast reduction surgery, I would do it.  But since I am so broke that ‘I can’t even pay attention’, I will just bitch and moan instead.

When I was at my desirable weight, I was a perfect 36C.  Not too big.  Not too small.  I could even go braless.  They were perfect, perky and looked good in any top.

Now since my body has a hormone crisis going on, the twins have enlarged.  I can’t stand it.  At my worst I was a 40DD.  You would not believe how hard it is to find a blouse that that does not have a cap in between two buttons.  God forbid if put your hands on your waist and broaden the cap.  At that point, people can see your bra color and realize that the shirt doesn’t fit well.  Embarrassing.

Since I have some lost weight, I needed to discover my new size.  At some point I need to accommodate a new ‘over the shoulder boulder holder’.

I decided to go to Nordstrom get resized.  I am now a 38DDD.  Is that bad or good?  I don’t know.  While I was being measured the sales lady happens to be representative of a bra company.  Eureka!  Who would know better then this woman to help me?

As I waited patiently in the dressing room I realized this poor person is going to try and sell me her expensive line of fine brassieres to brokeback me.  Since I am a prisoner of my empty wallet, my guilty conscience had taking hold on me captivating up this nice lady’s time.

As I was lost in my culpable ethics, she walked in with several bras draped on her arm and big smile.  She looked like a close line.  All I really wanted was my new measurements but she was so enthusiastic.  In my adrifted state, she had me bend over slightly as she harnessed me into my new bra dimensions.  These two cups looked like watering vessels to me.  The Romans and the Greeks could have carried more water and made fewer trips to the watering holes if they would have draped a few bras on the arms.

As I stood up, what a relief.  Now the boys weren’t overflowing over my newly fitted boob container.  It was time for next fitting.  This time it was a little more embarrassing.  While I was in my bent over position, she would try to jiggle my boobs by pulling back and forth on the straps rapidly.  It must have been quite a sight.  Nest thing I know there is a Nordstrom saleslady coming into the dressing room.  Now it’s a bra party.

After a few fittings, I thought I really shouldn’t be taking up these people’s time and made an excuse.  I mentioned that I was waiting for a phone call from my mother to pick her up from the eye doctor’s.  It was true but I fake an incoming call while they were in the lingerie show room.  So I thank you and left.

Yesterday I went to Macy’s and went on a quest for a bra.  I tried Ross’s but get real.  Trying to find a bra in your size and color is a joke.  At Macy’s I realized that my new size was hard to find in a neutral color.  So I kept scouring through until I found about five to try on.  Honestly at that time I was exhausted, I felt bloated and hopeless.  Tried them all on and none of them really fit like the luxury bra from Nordie’s.  Bra-tired I went ahead and bought one on sale.  I still have it here at the house and I haven’t tried it on again.  I am worried it won’t fit.

When you are low on dough, it is like buying beefsteak tomatoes instead of Heirloom.  Dammit!

Maybe I should just wrapped them up in bindings and call it a day.  Oh wait.  Then I have to be concerned with binding lines.  I think that could be worse then panty lines.  Is there hope?