Sunday, July 08, 2007

G is for ginormous

This weekend I went to visit the bra nazi. You know the place. A real bra store with bras that can double as bullet proof vests, and everyone is fitted, every time.

I have worn the same bra daily for about a week now. I am aware of the grossness. I don't have another one that fits now. Hence my trip to the bra nazi.

This woman, in her mid 70's, has owned the Pennyrich Bra Patch for years. She can fit anyone any size, including women with less than 2 breasts. She is the go to lady for all your boob needs. The only thing you have to watch out for are the days when she is anxious to show your her custom fit bra. Without warning, she will hike her shirt above her head to show you how well her bra supports her coniferous breasts. I have seen this more times than I can forget. And I have tried to forget.

This trip to the Bra Patch was different though. There was a younger woman working. She understood my desire to wear something that kept me from being a hunchback, but yet that was still pretty. She sympathized as she measured my pregnant breasts, saying "And you'll only get bigger from here." Comforting.

Honestly, it was the most painless trip I've made to the Bra Patch, but I have to say that the saleslady lost major points with me when she said, "Back when I was pregnant, I was happy just to finally fill out a B cup." If I had swung around fast enough, I could have taken her out with my left boob. Right across her temple.

I'm glad I didn't though. She fully redeemed herself when she returned to the dressing room with the most beautiful bra I have owned. She said, "This is a new line we are carrying. They make bras especially for small women with a large cup size."

Small women. I am rarely, if ever, called small. Since the ninth grade I have worn baggy tops to hide my breasts. I was embarrassed at their size and uncomfortable with the attention they drew. My baggy clothes left everything else hidden and made me look heavier that I was.

I decided I love this woman. And the bra she brought me. Of course the second bra is far more utilitarian, but I'm alright with that.

My friend T told me a few years ago that I should be happy I have these girls. Show them off she said. So I bought some camisoles and then proceeded to wear big baggy shirts over them. The girls and I have never made peace really.

I always wanted to be a person first and a woman second. My chest has been a stumbling block in that area. I have hated the way it overwhelmed my figure. I have hated never being able to buy a dress; only separates that were 2 sizes bigger on top than the bottom. I have hated never being able to go braless, not even around the house. I have hated trying to go braless and then bounding down the stairs only to have the girls try to rip themselves off and alternately slap me in the chin.

I thought (and I know what you all told me . . .) that maybe, just maybe, the girls were plenty big and wouldn't need to grow when I got pregnant. Not so much.

But there is a treaty on the horizon. I am learning to make peace with my body. I am in a relationship that has been amazing for my self esteem. I am learning to respect the changes my body is making in preparation for this Little Bird. I am looking forward to breastfeeding. Put these puppies to good use.

I will be thankful for what they will give to our child. Be thankful for their health and, um, vigor. Be thankful that G isn't the last letter of the alphabet in bra land. Ginormous indeed.

Calling Team Whymommy. Care to pontificate on your boobs? Do so anytime this week, leave a link here, and we'll round them up on Friday for some weekend reading while Whymommy recoups from chemo treatment #1.

Remember, the only Team Whymommy rules are positive thoughts and no pity. Bring on the funny.