The cup is...half full

I am going to be positive about this. Yes. The cups are half full. By cups I mean my bra cups. They are half full with my....breasts? Yes. I guess they are still referred to as breasts.

Many know that I am a little hung up on the girlies...as in breasts. (what you may have been thinking about is for another blog altogether) I just wanted to have nice full Bs. I have a full bottom and I wanted just a little fanfare up top. 

I was one of the first to have breasts in school...and by breasts I mean pudge being pushed forward out from my armpits. I remember in 5th grade, shopping with mom in Marshalls, a cardboard box hit my head. Was THROWN at my head. It had a training bra in it and that was the introduction to it. A box to the head and my mom giggling, hand still in mid air from the toss. Later that year I was with my mom at the firehouse to vote. While waiting on line I turned to her and whispered, "How can people wear these bras? They keep riding up!" My mom whispered back, "You need something to hold them down. You aren't quite there yet."


By the time I hit NYC at the age of 22 I realized that I could just let them be- free of cuppage- and wear strappy things and rejoice in myself for all of the 2 years I think that lasted. That was fun. Me and the triangular nippies, running all around Manhattan and shelving books and finishing up my 19 years of school.

Then I was teaching and I strapped them back in and met a guy named husband and we had babies. And I had boobs off and on during that process. Yes, I took a picture of the cleavage I had after not nursing for 4 hours. I took a picture to remember the awesomeness of Bs.....

Now I have situations in which, like in 5th grade, my bra starts riding up. I absently tug the bra down from time to time. I guess too much while in Boston last week and my dad finally turned to my mom and said, "Mom, Kate's bra is not comfortable!" kind of loud......kind of out at a restaurant...kind of while the waiter was poised to take out order.

I flumped down the next day on a couch, surrounded by gorgeous curves and turned to one curvy, Mandy, and said, "I can't fill my bra anymore." I pulled my shirt, looked straight down to re-confirm I could see my breasts sitting there, waiting patiently to disappear completely. And Mandy said those dreaded words, "You need to find a new bra."



Visual smack down of an old blue haired, 5 ft woman, cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth, with a measuring tape assaulted me. Words like:
this is all a mess.....
completely wrong cup size.....
if you THINK you are a 36 you have another think coming......
And that plastic measuring tape would be so cold against the girlies. 

Honestly, if they would consider a mammogram, bra fitting combo- I would go for it hands down. But 2 women trying to fit my breasts into places with cold hands 2 times in one year....I mean, to disrobe TWICE in order to get a new bra and a scan seems..seems...overwhelmingly overwhelming.

Sigh.

But, as I said, the cups are half full. They are mine. They are healthy (knocking on pressed wood, hope that counts) and they got the job done thus far. Hang in there ladies! (or at least, keep leaning slightly to the left against my sternum.....whatever.)