Before going to the birthday party mentioned in the last post, we swung by the mall so I could buy some maternity bras... and then change into one on the drive to the party. Count yourself lucky you weren't in THAT passing car.
Me - OH MY GOD. Seriously, my crankiness factor has been decreased at LEAST 50% by buying maternity bras. Seriously, you have NO IDEA.
B - (mostly just silence... out of boredom, I assume)
Me - You know they were $45?
B - WHAT? You've GOT to be joking. FOOOOORTY-FIIIIVE dollars?? (here I picture "fooooorrtyyy-fiiiivve dooollaars" being repeated echo-in-a-canyon style over and over)
Me - Yeah, that's why I had my dad get me a gift certificate to the maternity store for my birthday, so I could buy bras.
B - Oh My God, that's RIDICULOUS.
Me
- Yeah, and you know what's funny? They basically didn't even have my
size. Because non-pregnant I'm an A cup and pregnant I'm still only a B
cup, which I'm betting almost no one is, so I had to search and search
just to find a B. ALSO, I bought a 38 B, but I had to add my extender
thingy b/c I'm REALLY a 40 B. For a small woman, I have a freakishly
large rib
cage.
B - Wait. YOU'RE A B?!!!!!!
Me - Yeah, a hearty B probably, but very very firmly no where near a C. I have plenty of room in the bra if I needed it.
B
- Oh my GOD! You've somehow boob-conditioned me. I thought you were
like a D! I thought your boobs were SO big now.... I can't believe
you're a B...
1 comment:
Don't get me started. And as I'm nursing, I'm an E. That's right. Frigging E. Every time I put on a sweater, I feel like an extra in a Ron Jeremy movie.
It's just such a racket, maternity bras, isn't it?
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