Movin’ on up (err…down)

When Animal was 6 weeks old, I decided to get fitted for a high quality nursing bra. I figured that my breasts had evened out to their permanent nursing size, and I wanted to make sure that I had a few good bras to last me through the breastfeeding experience. I decided to be professionally fitted, which I highly recommend. (Most women are wearing the wrong size bra.)

And so, the lady with the tape measure and the granny glasses checked out the goods while I stood there shirtless in the dressing room, waiting for the outcome. She tapped her finger to her mouth. “40F” she announced. I just about shit my pants. Sure, I knew that I had grown some since Rylan’s birth, but I surely hadn’t expected to be in the 40’s, much less in an F cup. In fact, back then I had no idea that anything past a D cup even existed. And so, for the next 11 months, I’ve owned two nursing bras. Very expensive, but very boring. White, lacy, latches at the shoulder to expose the jugs to the hungry bebe. I’ve worn them around the clock, 24/7 and I’ve had about all I can handle.

So last night, I decided to take another trip to my local high end department store for another fitting. Considering that Animal is almost done weaning, I figured that now is the appropriate time. I tried my hardest to stop dreaming of a black bra without monster straps. I focused on the fact that I would at least leave the store with something that didn’t have a little bead in the center that could be pushed from one side to the other to remind me which breast had been emptied last.

I followed the Fitter into the dressing room. “What size are you wearing now?” she asked. “40F”, I mumbled. She raised an eyebrow. I peeled off my shirt and out came the tape measure. I braced myself. “36D,” she said firmly. The heavens opened up and I heard angels singing. She promptly left and returned with armfulls of black, lace, patterns, colors, fabrics and styles. I was in D cup heaven. And believe you me, I left the store with a little black number.

3 Responses to “Movin’ on up (err…down)”

  1. 1 Missy November 20, 2006 at 11:47 am

    I remember being fitted and told I was a 40G. I asked, “As in A-B-C-D-E-F… G?”

    I highly recommend
    Love the carina.

  2. 2 Louisa November 20, 2006 at 11:49 am

    I coulda written that post!!
    Except the number thrown at me after my first was born was a 42H.

    I waved longingly at the 40F’s on the way out.

    Now that I weaned the bugger, I’m a cheery, albeit very droopy, be-stretchmarked 38C.

    I hadn’t seen a c-cup since somewhere in highschool. I too, about “shit my pants”

    You crack me up. ๐Ÿ™‚

  3. 3 sunShine November 21, 2006 at 8:53 am

    I know how you feel. I bought some new bras as soon as my little one was weaned. I was so sick of the boring nursing bras that I had been wearing for a year. I need to be fitted though, I am sure that I am wearing the wrong size. Maybe I will ask for a g/c to Victoria’s Secret for Christmas and let them measure me.

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