F! As in Fat Boobies!

This is a girly post. Deal with it boys.

So, I have struggled with the boobs all my life. In the eighth grade, I wore a sweater that made it appear that I had more than I truly did in that area. I mean, believe it or not, was FLAT. Like 12 year old boy flat. I was so flat, I was practically inverted. But even so, I was christened with the nickname Charmin. Yes. As in the toilet paper. And all my classmates would break out into the jingle whenever I entered the room. Don't hold back. Everybody agrees. Take that softness and give it a squeeze...

Yeah. Fun. Then, the summer between my freshman and sophomore year, I went from a barely A cup to a large B. By the next fall, I was a C cup. Guys ogled me. Girls hated me and called me fat. High school was pretty torturous. I remember this My Two Dads episode where Nicole is mean to this girl Donna because Donna got "them," and Nicole and her friend decided to hate the poor girl even though they used to be good friends. And then The Judge had to give Nicole a talking to because The Judge had been Donna when she was in school and her friends were mean to her just like Nicole was to Donna. And Nicole felt like shit and called Donna and apologized for being a raging, jealous bitch who was mean and made bad boyfriend choices as she let Corey who would later go on to be a much bigger movie star go while she and Chad Allen topped out on Step By Step and that Shannen Doherty/Deidre Hall/Quaker Oatmeal Guy show. Yeah, I really wish I had had a Judge. Bitches.

And the breast fun just continues on after high school. While they are handy in getting drinks at bars or conning gas station attendents out of ice, they are more trouble than they are worth. I can't wear button up shirts. I can't wear slinky tops because I always require a bra. I find it uncomfortable to take my bra off and relax if other people are around. I bounce when I am on the gym machines. And even if SpecialT hadn't already traumatized me to the point that I refuse to run, I still wouldn't due to the jiggle.

They weighed 7 pounds each at last weighing. I haven't been able to buy a bra from Victoria's Secret in years. I have tried bras from Dillards, Foleys and other department stores. I have worn Playtex and Cross Your Heart. If it is under $30, I have tried it with no success. So, this weekend, I decided I would go to this fancy-ish boutique and buy a GOOD bra. I would get measured by a real bra lady, not the twit working the fitting room in Dillards or Victoria's Secret that day. I was willing to fork out up to $50 for said bra. I didn't care how big the straps were. I didn't care how many hooks it had (I am now up to 3 or 4 hooks at this point). I just wanted something that fit and kept the girls where they belonged. I explained my wishes to the bra measuring lady. She showed me lots to choose from, including the Oprah Bra which was like armor.

We go in to get measured. She doesn't tell me what my size was. She just brings them in and starts putting them on me. When I had chosen one, she left so I could get dressed. It was good. Nice color. Snug. Lots of support. Back feels weird but good. So, I look at the bra to see the price. I saw a letter I never expected to see.

I went into the store a 38D. I came out a 38F. F! F! F as in FAT BOOBIES! I am an F! An F! I cannot wrap my mind around this letter. F.

Fat boobies.