Support

It is time. It is time to buy one of my least two favorite items: bras. I think the market has women cornered. I mean we have to wear them. Okay, some women don’t have to and others choose not to wear one. I choose to wear one. They can charge us an ungodly amount of dollars for this ‘necessity’ and how do I know which is really best for me? There are so many styles and materials. It is an exhausting experience of both the mind and bank account.

Anyway, last week was time for the fitting, so off to Nordstrom’s I went.

I try to go in for a fitting annually. It is my upper half’s annual exam to make sure the girls are being housed correctly for the sake of my posture and back/shoulder support. I am an advocate. Every woman should go and do this. It is a surprising and life changing experience. I kid you not. I could tell over the last couple of weeks it was time to recheck the status. I drug my feet as long as I could. There are women who love to shop for bras and panties. I am not one of these women. I prefer to spend the $60 or so dollars on shoes or three weeks of Eggnog Latte’s.

Kaden and I took the Nordstrom lingerie department by storm; and the fitting gal took my by storm.

It is amazing how I have let go of many different inhibitions after giving birth and again being pregnant. I have a different view of the world and reality is reality. So, I warn the fitting gal that I am way pregnant and hope she enjoys the maternity pants hiked up under my bra line. She giggles and enters.

She measures me, excuses herself and brings me a fit bra. She asks me to face the wall, remove my shirt and bra. I am to put the fit bra on and she will clasp and fit it. I am then to bend down and ‘put my breast tissue’ into the cup. I do. As I follow her orders I see Kaden looking at me dancing with his arms up over his head to Madonna. Perfect.

It is a fit. I am officially a 34/36 DDD. Are you kidding? What happened to the other double alphabet letters like EE, F or GG? I just skip right on into the triplets? I don’t know, but this growth seems unnatural. No wonder I have been so uncomfortable. I should call Guinness Book of World Records. She shops the floor as I sit in the fitting room entertaining Kaden in my maternity pants and fit bra. She brings back several different choices. Each one looks as though the cup will swallow my head whole.

I try on a few options. I am disappointed because the selections don’t tack correctly or the cup won’t lay flat against me. I question the fit and/or size. Am I really a DDD? Are you sure a full cup is my best option over a demi or blah blah blah. We keep repeating the turn around and place my tissue in the cup routine and as if things couldn’t get more uncomfortable she asks her manager to come and take a look. I feel my face redden. I breathe repeating in my head that this is their job. They see women of all shapes, sizes and styles. Maternity pants belly and all is part of the gig. Poor things.

I eventually am fit with the PERFECT bra. It is beautiful. I am in love. I look like a super model or as I later tell a few select people I look like a porn star… In the middle of my admiration I realize that this beauty costs one hundred and four dollars. What? I whip around and laugh towards the fit gal. I am carefully holding the tag under my arm pit as I look at it. I repeat out loud, “I am not frugal, but this bra costs one hundred and four dollars! Is this a digit per D?” She giggles. She seems to giggle a lot. I explain that although it is like a second skin I would like to keep shopping…

The end result is three bras for $148.00 and the ‘girls’ that I now refer to as the ‘wild women’ have never been happier. In learning about this rapid rate of growth I have a fear of what will come after I deliver. I wonder if postpartum I will be able to support what is to come physically, emotionally and within our bank account.