The B Word

I went to the mall the other day in hopes of finding a bra that fit. Did you know 8 out of 10 women wear the wrong size bra? I knew I did, but I say it's not my fault because when I bought them I didn't know I was about to lose a number size in my boobs due to weight loss. Weight loss= Awesome. Smaller breasts= Not so Awesome. Anyways, I had bought to somewhat expensive bras from VS a while ago and they were ok. But now. They are too big. And they move around a lot and the underwire presses into my sternum. It hurts. So I went into Dillards to check out bras in a smaller size. Oh, lucky me! They had a fitting specialist that day. Had I ever had a fitting? Did I want one? Sure. Why not. So I went into the fitting room with Susan. I took off my shirt and she measured my chest, right underneath my armpits. She left and came back with a bra, which oddly enough was numbered 34C. I am not a 34C. I am a 34B. I knew this. She comes back with another size. A 32B and a 34B. The 32B is too tight. 34B fits perfectly. Anyways, before I tried on any bras, I had to take my current bra off. Which I did. With Susan in the room. And at her insistence that it's ok. I don't care, I'm not particularly modest anymore. And she was in the boob business. She didn't care. She even hooked the clasps for me. Actually, I kind of want someone to do that for me all the time. And to adjust my straps daily. So I'm wearing my new bra today. It's not very push up-y, nor does it make them look bigger. But it fits and with my shirt off, it's fucking hott. I think I just fell in love with low cut bras.