It’s hard to believe I’m writing my 100th
post for this blog. It’s been just over three years, and tons of random
madness, but overall I think we’ve all had a good time.
Since this is the 100th
post, I had quite a struggle over deciding what to write about. I felt like it
should be something epic and mind-blowing. Or, since this blog is really a
means of forcing myself to write, an update on how my other writing is going
(hint, not well). I petitioned my family for ideas. My brother wanted me to do
a review of best/worst posts. My mother wanted me to talk about some spoilers
from the latest Game of Thrones that she is having trouble accepting. My father
suggested the evolutionary aspects of sleep (which I probably will do at some
point because let’s be honest, I love talking about sleep).
In the end I decided to go with
something very near to my heart.
Boobs.
(Yes, that was a pun. Laugh and move
on)
Boobs are often the bane of my existence. Actually, I
suppose not boobs, but the bras we need to keep ‘em in check.
Basically, bras are life ruiners.
You first have the struggle of trying to find a bra that
fits. It is MUCH trickier than the male mind can even imagine. You have to take two things into consideration: band size and cup size.
Now a common misconception is that cup size is always the
same. So if I wear a C, I would wear a C no matter what band size.
FALSE!!
The band size actually changes the cup size. So if you wear
a 36 C and move up to a 38, you’re probably now wearing a B. This is called a
“sister size.” Basically for every band size you move down you add a cup, and
every band size you move up you subtract a cup. In theory, 34 D = 36 C = 38 B =
40 A.
Are you starting to sense the crazy here?
There are a ton of statistics flying around saying that most
people are not actually wearing the correct bra size. That’s partially because
of the band/cup logic we just discussed that not everyone is familiar with.
It’s also partially because of how one determines their size.
If you go to a fancy bra store they will offer you a
“fitting,” where using measuring tape and magic they will tell you your true
bra size.
Now some people luck out, and have a great fitting and find
their true bra right away. For years, I hated fittings with a PASSION because I
would go with friends, get a fitting, and it was disastrous. They’d tell me a
size that was so far off what I was wearing, all I could do was stare blankly
at them. I’d try the bra they suggested. Not really because I believed them,
but because I wanted to be a dick and show them they were wrong and stupid.
This always led to trying on bras that produced quadriboob. Not a pleasant
experience. Discouraged and pissed, I’d refuse to try anything else, because if
the magic fitting doesn’t work for finding a size, what does? Random guessing?
Luck?
I promise it’s not just me either. I recently read a buzzfeed
article where a woman got six different fittings in a day, and while I
laughed, I also almost cried from commiserating with her experience.
But recently, I figured out part of why this happens. I have
cracked the logic of the bra fittings.
In theory, your bra size can be determined using measure
tape. If you measure around your ribs this should determine your band size. So
if you measure 34 inches around your ribs, you should wear a 34 band. The cup
size is determined by then measuring across your breasts. You want to aim
roughly for the nipple region for this measurement. Then, you subtract
measurement 1 from measurement 2 to determine your cup. 1 inch of difference =
A, 2 inches = B, 3 = C, and so on and so forth.
With such simple logic, how can anyone manage to screw up
all the time??
Two reasons.
First, the reason I often have problems specifically at
Victoria’s Secret is because they make the assumption you’re wearing a PUSH UP
BRA and thus DON’T FOLLOW THE FORMULA. Their push up bras are actually designed
to measure as a cup size or two larger than you really are, so since they
assume you’re wearing one, they subtract 2 inches from your second measurement
before calculating your bra size. I know this, because the ONLY time I got a
correct fitting at VS was when the lady specifically stopped and asked me if I
was wearing a push up bra or not.
The second reason, and really the killer here, is that bras
ARE NOT CONSISTENTLY SIZED. A 34 D in one line is NOT the same as a 34 D in
another. Try taking sizes across stores and you will basically want to give up
on wearing a bra forever. So even though you now know some of the secret logic
behind bras, IT DOESN’T REALLY HELP MUCH.
Fucking bras.
If you somehow magically find ones that fit well, you then
need to be prepared to shell out a decent amount of money to buy them. The bras
I’m buying these days cost between $40-80, even on sale.
That’s not by choice. Let me stop to emphasize how much that
is not a willing decision. Yes, I prefer pretty bras. I do not buy plain white
bras, it’s true. But guess what. There are plenty of cheaper brands that still
have pretty options. Guess what else. BITCHES DON’T EVEN MAKE MY SIZE!! I
literally cannot buy bras at Target anymore. My size doesn’t exist. It’s not an
option, even if I was willing to get something a bit dowdy, which is why I’ve
had to resort to Victoria’s Secret.
Yay…. (not)
One would think that since bras are expensive, you should
buy less of them, right?
ALSO FALSE.
I mean you could. I’m not going to stop you. But here’s more
bra logic – the more you wear bras the more the band stretches and thus STOPS
FITTING. You are never supposed to wear the same bra two days in a row because
this causes it to stretch even faster. You are supposed to rotate bras, and the
more you can add to the rotation the longer you can keep them keeping your
girls nice and perky.
I mean seriously, is anyone else going crazy trying to
follow all this “logic” that no one tells us and half the time doesn’t even
apply? Was the entire bra industry designed to crush our dreams and drive us
mad??
Pretty sure it was.
PS. If you didn’t recognize the title for this post, it
comes from the excellent horror movie Stay
Alive, because let’s be honest, bra shopping is it’s own kind of horror.
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