My sole white bra had enough room in the cups for me to carry my grocery shopping, after some recent weight loss. Weight loss, good. Room for a party bra, bad. So I decided to venture off for a new one when the shops lovingly called out ‘Sale!’
The Bendon Factory Outlet store looked promising. As it was the beginning of its ‘Nothing over $20 Sale’, the shop didn’t yet look like it had been chucked up in the air, flipped around and thrown back down. The racks were plentiful of pretty materials to contain your rack.
Non-white bras beckoned me. They called out, poured me drinks, and gave me awesome compliments as I walked past. Anything to be tried on. So I took advantage of the situation, and hugged a collection of everything but white brassieres to the changing room.
I had selected various sizes, as I was a little unsure. But it soon became clear that sizing wasn’t the only problem.
I tried on the first over-shoulder boulder-holder. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The sizing was my normal size, but random bulges appeared where I thought it was never possible. The almost underarm bulge had made an appearance, and it wasn’t for just that bra either. It looked like I was growing an extra set, but out to the side. It was unattractive side cleavage, staring at me and laughing jollily.
Was this my fate for bras from now on? I tried on the smaller cup size. Why did I even bother, my tits were suffocating. Is this some kind of April Fools day taunt?
So I put back on my own bra that sits perfectly, and feeling defeated left the changing room. But I couldn’t give up now, I had to get a new white bra.
I found a couple and a cute little pink number that would match my cute little previously purchased pink knickers. And I grabbed some potential cute white underwear to match the possible perfect white bra. I also grabbed one of those under dresses that sucks everything in, so you look streamlined.
I went back into the change room, hopeful. Both white bras were successful, but one had more nipple coverage and given that winter was approaching, I wanted to steer clear of any headlights fiascos.
I coupled the chosen white bra with the detailed white knickers. It’s really hard to judge knickers when you are trying them on, when they are over the top of your own. It was then and there that I decided I needed to go for a run and work on getting some abs of steel.
‘Ugh’, I said to myself, while some cougars gossiped about Tony and Jenny’s relationship in the background. I hope I never become the topic of someone else’s discussion in an underwear changing room.
I tried on the suck-it-in dress. I pulled it over my head and yanked it down. It was like trying to put on a wet swimsuit. I thought it was ok, but not for me. I tried to take it off. It got stuck around my shoulders and I had my helpless arms in the air flailing about like a live prawn on the barbeque. In my mind I was screaming ‘help!’ and ‘oh crap.’ I finally peeled it off, flustered, red, and about ready to take to the damn thing with a sharp pair of scissors.
I walked up to the counter with the garments, and separated the selection from the rejects. White bra, cute pink bra, and plain white seamless undies, yes. Suck-it-in dress and detailed white knickers, no.
“How did you get on with the Shapewear?” asked the cashier.
“Not good. I got stuck.”
“We usually try and get people before they go into the change room and tell them how to put it on.”
“I put it on over my head.”
“Yeah, you’re supposed to step into it. Otherwise you’ll dislocate an arm.”
Hmmm, defeated and dislocated. Exactly how I felt.
“How about these white knickers, they’re quite popular.”
Then, she used the ‘f’ word.
“They’re really popular and quite flattering.”
I was hooked. She’d used the word ‘flattering’ and hadn’t even seen them on me. They must be good. So they made it to the purchase pile.
I walked out of the shop with a full bag and mixed feelings. I had purchased what I had intended to, plus some extras. I had also acknowledged that underwear shopping should only be done when your self-esteem is sky-high and your body looks like Miss McPherson. At that rate, I’m never going underwear shopping again.