If you're playing along, you will have said, "Under where?" and I will snicker to myself, "You said Underwear! Heh heh. Heh heh." Juvenile humor, yes, but it's funny to ME, dammit! And I need that humor today. Why, you ask. I'll tell you.
Today, I went shopping for something I hate, hate, HATE to go shopping for. Worse than shopping for a bathing suit, I went shopping for new bras. I knew it was time when the underwires on two of my bras decided to escape and stab me in a delicate area.
Now the reason I hate shopping for bras is because I am what you would call "Full-figured." Translation: I've got big, giant, 100% natural hooters. It's both a blessing and a curse. These days, we're leaning more toward curse than blessing. Trying to find a bra for the "Full-figured woman" that doesn't look like something you harness to a mule is a challenge. So off I go to my local higher end department store and head up to the "lingerie" department where I peruse racks upon racks (Pun intended. Heh heh.) of bras. I find several styles in my size and head to the dressing room.
I used to be paranoid about hidden cameras in dressing rooms but now, if someone is getting their jollies by looking at my pasty white sagging breasts, then bless their perverted little hearts because believe me, ain't nuthin' sexy about me these days.
Anyways. I try on the first bra. Nope. 2nd bra. Nope. Bras 3, 4 and 5. Nope, nein and nyet. 100 bras later (only a slight exaggeration), I finally tried on one that fit in the cups, the straps didn't carve into my shoulders, it was comfortable yet supportive and lifted the girls back up to where they belong. Yes, I thought, we have a winner! I'll just get several of this one, I said to myself as I preened in front of the mirror. And then I turned to see how it looked in the back and gave a shriek of horror. The skin of my back in between the straps was squeezed together so much it looked like I had some serious cleavage. You could have tucked a rose in there. And a pencil.
That was the final straw. I'd been trying on bras for over an hour and I was Done. Sadly, I know I must continue my quest before I'm reduced to rigging up some duct tape, elastic and dishtowels into a makeshift bra.
Pray for me.