Two days ago we went to the Sing-Along version of Frozen, because we still have money left in our retirement account and haven’t yet fulfilled our apparent moral obligation to continuously bolster the box office success of this cartoon.
I had just finished the reprise of For The First Time in Forever, I as Elsa and Gigi as Anna, obviously, when I bent down to grab my popcorn and *SNAP*
Second underwire snapped in a month. You know those medical miracle news stories where they show x-rays of dudes with nails in their heads that somehow missed every vital area, one day you will see my chest cavity on the screen with a u-shaped wire narrowly missing my beating heart. That or one of those ohcrapwhatsinmyrectum x-rays. It could go either way.
I have been in an abusive relationship with my breasts.
At 8 bound them down with ace bandages, at 17 they hung below the table during strip poker, and at 28 they began to rest adorably in my arm pits when I lay down. I’ve spent over two decades hating them, cursing them, and stuffing them into ill fitting pretty things.
I want to be really poetic here and say, oh but they are beautiful vessels that nourished my children, but the truth is, they still fucking suck.
Would I like to wear tube or halter tops? Yes. Would it be nice to wear a strapless bra that doesn’t end up like a cummerbund by the end of the day? Absolutely. This isn’t in the cards for me. I have a large chest that requires thick annoying bras that I spend an infinity percent of my day adjusting every time I bend over or move around too much.
I’ve been measured at Cacique twice, and both times, I left with a bag full of expensive 36 DDD’s. Yet, I still had loads of over-boobs and wire snaps. Something wasn’t right.
I shared a really great how-to video last year, disputing everything you thought you knew about bra sizing, and after doing some extensive research, it turns out it was totally right.
You can watch the video in length for great discussion about how to properly fit yourself for a bra, but I’m going to break it down real quick below in three easy steps.
Now take your bra off.
1. Take a fabric measuring tape, put it around your rib cage where your bra band would sit, and exhale. Write down that number, it’s your band size. Mine is 38.
2. Bend over at a 90 degree angle. Yup, your boobs should be dangling and you suddenly remember why you always wear a bra during doggy style. Wrap the measuring tape loosely around your back and dangling bust, and write that number down. Mine is 49.
3. Now it’s time for some math. Take those two numbers and subtract them. (i.e. 49-38 = 11) Now take that number and check out the chart to determine your cup size. Tip: Most online ordering is done via UK Sizing, which is way more accurate than US Sizing, govna!
I am a 38H. AAAAAAAAAAA-CH.
*put head head between knees and breathes slowly*
In the spirit of giving zero fucks about the size of my pants and simply wearing what fits and feels good, I woman’ed up and ordered a new bra, you know, just to try it. A scientific experiment, if you will.
Finding a 38H was admittedly a little tough, but after studying reviews and shopping prices, I took the plunge on a Gia bra from Curvy Kate that I found on Amazon Prime for a great price. Tip: I also found cute options at FigLeaves.com, HerRoom.com and Bravissimo.com.
The difference is in the pudding… and by pudding I mean boobies.
This is a 36DDD, the bra Cacique fit me into. That stuff oozing out of the sides? That’s not armpit fat (okay maybe it’s a little armpit fat), that is actual boob. In Andy’s words as he took this picture, “That looks painful, stop wearing it.”
This is a 38H Curvy Kate bra, purchased based on the fitting I did on myself in my kitchen. Opening it up, I scoffed at it’s size. No way my boobs are that huge. And then I put it on and spent the evening in it. No spillage. No armpit or under boob. Just happy 38H’s. I’ll take 10. Find it here!
UPDATE: The second bra in my boob-renovation came today, and man is this journey getting fun! This is the Panache Envy in 38H, and I think it may be my most favorite, yet! It’s really comfortable, sexy as hell, and the lace is stretchy so it sits flush to the skin. I’m in love! Find it here!
Jerry Springer Final Thought: As a woman, I’ve experienced virtually zero standard of sizing across any other form of fashion, why on Earth would I think bras would be any different? That fact is, the system I am used to might not be accurate, but rather, available. I am being fit into what is available to me in stores based on what society thinks is an appropriate size to offer, and I accepted it because I was afraid of being abnormal or large or different… when the fact is, I’m not any of those things. And neither are you.