Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders

(Dear male readers, should there be any: this is an entry about shopping. And boobs, but not in a fun way. Feel free to skip this one.) (It was also written last week... so pretend it's Thursday, or something.) Lunch hours are dangerous.

I took the rare lunch hour today and went to Kohl's, meaning to buy a bra. ALL I WANTED WAS A BRA. I wasn't even going to buy a fun one, either. No pushup, no leopard print, no plunge. I just wanted a smooth, nude-colored Old Lady Bra that wouldn't dig into my ribs halfway through the work day. Is that too much to ask?

Well, apparently it is, because despite the 975,049,857,339 bras crammed onto the racks in the lingerie section, and three separate handfuls I took back to the fitting rooms, not a single bra fit. And I have it lucky, too - I'm exactly average in cup/band size, both my boobs are the same size, I'm not plus size or too broad shouldered or anything. I should be the easiest person on the planet to fit.


There are so many aspects of bra-buying to consider. You've got cup size, cup shape, the circumference of your rib cage, the distance between your boobs, the distance from your boob to your shoulder, the thickness of the straps, headlight dimmers (you know what I mean!), padding, whether it makes your boss look at your eyes or your chest while he's talking to you, if you can see it through your favorite sweater... car buying, estate planning, and childbirth are all a breeze compared to this.

So, no bra. What's a girl to do? Consolation shop, of course. I wandered over to the shoes and found some flats for $12. Score, except I bought them in three different colors, so maybe that cancels out the savings? And they don't help you at the register either. The perky girl who tried to push a credit card on you prints our your perky receipt and grabs a perky red pen and circles a number at the bottom and perks out "You saved $90 today!" No. I spent $50. Stop enabling me, chickie. I have more free time than I do either money or closet space and you are not helping.

Whatever, dude. Me and my pancake boobs at least have cute shoes.