When a person loses weight, as I have in the past two weeks, articles of clothing fit differently. Usually it's seen in the waistband of a skirt or the seat of a pair of pants. Mine showed up in the lingerie department. And not in the expected way.
Since birthing my first baby, my non-maternity bra size has been constant. Let's just say that my bra size is larger than the average American non-surgically-enhanced woman. But it's exactly the same as the average American surgically-enhanced woman. And no, I'm not surgically-enhanced.
When the sales lady led me into a fitting room for a current sizing, my expectation was that I would be down to the average non-surgically enhanced size. She told me my new size. I was shocked! Shocked, I tell you!
Rather than moving down a size, she brought in the next letter up, even suggesting at one point that two letters up might be necessary. Did the weight shift upwards? And if so, how?
I went crazy. Not mad-as-hell crazy but lost-my-mind shopping crazy. Once the damage was done, there were five new bras in my shopping bag. Black, nude, midnight purple, light purple, and hot pink. Why so many funky colors?
To paraphrase David O. Selznick as he told Ann Rutherford on the set of Gone With the Wind, perhaps no one will see the undergarments, but I'll know they're more than basic.
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