Bra's make for a Blahriffic day

My Mom offered to watch the kids so I could run around and get some of my final Christmas shopping done. I ran around to a couple different stores when the idea occurred to me to stop in at my favorite bra shop since it was so close. And let's face it- the last bra I bought was right after Phoebe was born over a year ago.

Seriously, my undergarments are not looking pretty lately.... but going bra shopping with all the kids without losing one of them is close to impossible. Not to mention the ever present thought that someday I might get CPS called on my arse when one of my kids eventually try to commandeer a giant bra rack or tries to dismember a mannequin. Stores are not my friend when I have three little kids tagging along with me.



So I decide to take advantage of this rare opportunity without children to go bra shopping. I skip through the racks of bras and start perusing the aisles for suitable styles. Then I realize that I'm not sure what size I am anymore what with all the breastfeeding I've been doing the past three and a half years.



So I take in a variety of sizes and styles. I try them all on. I give them the lovely bounce test. I start getting grouchy and irritated as I realize how little support some of them offer or how the underwire is practically cutting into me in others.... My head starts pounding and I curse the invention of bras.

I can hear some weird lady in the next booth huffing and puffing sounding like she's trying to squeeze and elephant into a bra for a mouse. But then who am I to judge? She's probably wondering who the hell would be jumping like a kangaroo in a bra fitting room.



I finally make my selection to a lovely black lace that fits perfectly in every way. I wait in a massive line to buy it.... then I finally get home and go to put it away in my undie drawer only to realize that after all that effort to pick out the perfect bra- the new bra I bought is identical to the old bra I was going to be tossing out.