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Monday, 23 May 2011

I'm 32.

The other day, I found myself short a couple kids and only had the baby.  Such a treat!  My mom and I decided to head to Walmart to wander around and buy some very exciting items.  On my shopping list; a new pillow, a new bra and shorts for the oldest.  So off we go!!  With only the baby in tow, we can wander around and totally take our time!  So nice!  We start at the ladies clothing and each try on an armful of stuff, just for fun!  Then we head over to the bra section.  Okay, now lets lay out some groundwork here.  First off, I used to have a lovely set of B's.  Just the right size.  Not too big, not too small, and perky.  Then came my kids.  With the first baby, the girls jumped up to a C.  Still alright!  We used to joke about the "Titty Fairy" who comes to visit while pregnant and then after while nursing.  Eventually, between my first and second baby, the girls dropped a bit to a B cup.  But still, I was happy with them.  Clothes fit well and bras fit well.  After having Kohen, I nursed for 19 months.  Nineteen whole months!!!  My once perky B's started to shrink a bit....and sag......and flop.  Not happy.  But I could still wear a nice bra and they'd perk right up again, fooling everyone!  Look guys!  I nursed 2 babes and my breasts are chipper and cheerful and up where they belong!! Nothing to do with my new Victoria Secrets bra...no, they are just like this naturally (ya right!).  Then along came Lenny.  Let's just say, at 20 months, he's still sucking me dry.  So the girls have shrunk yet again to very, very small A's.  Raisins really.  Shrively old prunes.  And considering they are so friggen small they sure hang LOW!  Do they wobble to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot?  Can you tie them in a bow?  Check, check and check.  So unless I'm wearing a VERY padded bra, they look alot like moobs.  You know moobs......man boobs?  Think pointy down and triangular shaped and floppy.  Moobs.  My moobs.  Mom boobs if you will. 

So there we are.....scouring the bra section.  Now my mom has never had the same problem as me.  As I'm searching through the racks, she's yelling "See any triple D's?" and I'm calling over "Keep an eye out for double A's!".  We hunt and hunt and nothing.  Sure, I try a few bras on over my clothes and existing bra and when they are too big then, I know to put them back on the hanger.  I give up.  I'm frustrated by my National Geographic cover, topless African woman breasts.  I decide I'll have better luck with shoes and head off, leaving my mom still trying to smush herself into a double D.

At the shoes and my mom comes running over with a handful of bras.  "JACKPOT!" she yells excitedly!  She's found some for me! We head off to the changing room and I'm in.  The first bra I try is cute....a nice lavender and it's too big.  That's okay!  I have others to try!  As I'm wrestling the next one off the hanger I notice there's a picture on the hanger.  It's of this girl, this.....PRETEEN girl.  This smiling red headed preteen girl with 2 thumbs up and too big front teeth. 

"MOM!"
"Yes?  You got one on?"
"MOM!  Are these.......TRAINING bras????"
*silence*
"MOM!"
"Well.........I was going to rip the tags off, but I thought then how could they scan them at the check out!"
"MOM!  The first one was TOO BIG!"
*silence*  "Maybe you need some of those cutlet things you stick in there?"
"No mom! NO thanks!"

I grumble and try on another. Okay, so it fits.....well.  La ti fucking da!  I try on another....again, fits....well.  So now I have 2.  I look at the preteen price tag....huh! Training bras are alot cheaper then real ones.  Fine.  I'll buy 2, but I'm devastated!  I'm 32 years old for goodness sakes!  I didn't even need a training bra when I was a kid!  I went from nothing to a B overnight!  I hide them under some stuff in the cart and pout the rest of the shopping trip.  My mom lovingly suggests "When you are finished nursing, get some suckers put in!"  Ya ya Mom....it's on my list of things to do.  We head to the check outs and I start separating my stuff from hers.  There in the bottom of the cart is a little bag with these squishy, flesh coloured things.  My mom snuck them in there.  I refuse to buy them. 

So there you go.  Buying training bras at age 32.  I've tried them on a couple times, but have yet to wear them.  I mean, without the preteen smiling at me from the hanger, they don't look any different from my A's I usually wear.  But I know she was on there.  Smiling at me with her too big front teeth.  Mocking me with her 12 year old smile.....I'm 12 and I've got bigger tits then you!!!

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