Monday, October 7, 2013

We must! We must! We must increase our BUST!

It was one of those mornings.  To make a long story short...I cleaned this weekend.  It is Oktoberfest weekend in my hometown, which means irritating college-aged kids from all over the state come to party; the upside is that they only managed to flip 2 cars this year, and there was no roadkill tossing.  It also means I didn't bother putting on a bra because I sure as shit wasn't going anywhere.  Plus, I signed up for Netflix, and like any new thing I had to sit and watch it for hours and hours.  I also drank wine.  And after I drank the wine, I needed pizza.

So...as things stand, I got a lot of stuff done.  I also didn't get everything done...like the clean laundry that is piled up in the corner of my couch to be folded.  I also got a lot of things shoved in corners that I need to go through.  Almost everything got rearranged.  Which leads me to this morning when I went looking for a bra and couldn't find one.

I messaged a bunch of my male Facebook friends and asked  about their underwear (now that I'm single, this might not be the best idea I've ever had).  What I learned is that men are not weird about their underwear.  Like...at all.  According to the five people I asked they don't have certain pairs they keep for certain things, they don't keep certain ones on the off chance someone might see them, and the closest thing they had to "special" underwear were ones that were "funny" and they wore them all the time.

It must be nice to be a man.  I, however, have unmentionable problems.  I once had a wire snap while sitting in the front row in my college "Creative Writing" course minutes before my professor read something I had written out loud.  Nothing like having your boob being simultaneously impaled and hanging all funny when everyone is looking at you. 

Which brings me to today. I couldn't find a bra this morning, and I needed to go to work so you can only imagine what happened next.  I grabbed one from the drawer.  And I've regretted it ever since.  Women have 3 kinds of unmentionables (for you women who have underwear that matches, and men who don't understand) :

The Everyday Nothing special, wear them every day.  Sometimes vary in cut for style, but usually tend to be the comfy panties.  Also include the work appropriate bras, ect.

The Special Stuff Anyone who has seen "10 Things I Hate About You" probably remembers the part about black panties, this is the section you find them in.  The Special Stuff section is reserved for lingerie, and those items that are too fragile, expensive, uncomfortable, or too nice for general wear (for some women, this might just be the one matching set they own or managed to keep together. I know I personally feel really accomplished when my underthings match).  Also included in this category are the super fat sucker undies, control top panty-hose, girdles, and Wonderbras.  Some of these items will not fit correctly due to the lack of frequent wear. 

The Damned Also known as laundry day panties, or granny panties.  Those special undergarments with exposed or missing elastic, maybe a cycle stain (I'm just keeping it real), saggy butt, and maybe even a few tears.  The Special bra that has a little tear or problem you keep reminding yourself to mend every time you see it or wear it, promptly wash and shove back into the drawer for the later that never comes.  Sometimes they're the most comfortable/ugly pair you own, and sometimes they're the pair that doesn't fit quite right but you just can't seem to bring yourself to get rid of them because they're practically new.

Which do you think I ended up with this morning when I couldn't find one of my Everyday bras?  I yanked one out of the garbage that I had thrown there 3 days before after snapping a wire.  Nope....too broken to function, and believe me...I really wanted that bra.  I tore up laundry piles...hoping at the very least I could find the black one with the convertible straps that makes my boobs look cone-shaped.  Nothing.  And then I opened the drawer and found the bra.  That push-up bra with the removable air pockets that I hadn't worn in years.  Yes even I, Aya of the Mountainous Bosom, has one.  The air pockets had been removed for a long time but even then it was an incredibly tight fit.  I tossed on work clothes and ran for the door.

I turned the corner at the end of my block and that is when it happened: the wire popped free from it's holding and promptly stabbed my in the left armpit, holding steady against my armpit fat like Dennis Quad in the mouth of the Dragon in Dragonheart until 7 blocks later when the right side decided to poke out.


If my boob had a face, it totally would have looked that uncomfortable.

I drove the rest of the way to work with my hands at 9 and 3, arms up and elbows out looking like I'm trying to air out my pits or doing Pilates (which I don't do, that shit hurts).  As I pulled into the lot, I scanned the other cars for people; As soon as I thought no one could see me, I was digging in my pits and trying to shove the wire back and rearrange the Grand Teatons.

I spent the rest of my day with my cup runneth-ing over like Keira Knightley in a damn pirate movie.


Her cup runneth over so much that the utterly sexy Orlando Bloom cannot even bear to look anymore. 

At the end of the day, I was forced to suck it up, put my big girl panties on, and go shopping for a new bra.  I hate bra shopping, and you know why?  Because every time I do it, I have to face that they've gotten bigger.  Like, all the wishes for big awesome boobs I made as a kid just keep being granted...does the boob fairy have a Customer Service Department? "Excuse me, but I'd like to cancel my subscription of boob, please."   What the hell.  That isn't even a question anymore.  It's a statement. But I tell ya, once I found one that fit...it was awesome and I felt good.  

When I started writing this...I'll admit, I just wanted to whine about my bra and my gigantic boobs.  But then I realized that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  And it got me thinking about how I should be nicer to my breasts, up to and including doing my self checks more regularly. My cousin said something that resonated with me October 2nd with this simple Facebook Status update:

 "I refuse to put some cutesy code words in my status for breast cancer awareness. Follow the guidelines for getting your mammograms and check your shit, ladies."

So take the same time it takes to read those messages, find "your" code, forward the message to all of your friends, and post the "secret code" status on your page to do a self breast exam.  Invite your significant other to do some handling.  Do whatever you need to do to get those checks done.  We don't need any more awareness...both men and women get breast cancer, and sadly most of us know or have known someone who has had it.  We need less awareness and more action.  If you need to be "aware" on Facebook, I'd love to see people acknowledging that they did their self checks and encouraging others to do so as well.

Get informed.  Follow the Guidelines.  Check your shit!

Learn how to do a proper Breast Self Exam HERE.

Learn about Breast Cancer, health, awareness, research, events and resources at the National Breast Cancer Awareness Month website here that has links to other sites. 
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