The drama continues.

You may be tired of hearing about my breasts by now (and if you are, how about we talk about miscarriage? Or therapy? Don't make me pull over and bring out the Elf DVD because I will!) but I continue to deal with them. Not just because they're somehow attached to my chest (in my head I hear a Spanish voice explaining: I wake up one morning and poof! Boobies is attached to my chest. I don't know. I don't know why it's a Spanish voice, it just is.) but because I was pretty screwed up about the 32DD episode.

If you've been reading my site for longer than, oh, five minutes, you'll know that self-confidence and I are pretty much constantly engaged in combat. While I am ok with my intellect and all right about my social skills (for the most part, anyway), I battle with my self-esteem with regards to my looks on a constant basis. This is despite my narcisstic stream of Flickr photos which star me, myself, and I, but that's for a photo project, not because I think I am the shit. In all honesty I think I am perfectly ordinary looking with loads of flaws (this isn't a subtle nudge for you to jump in and tell me otherwise, because that's not where I'm headed here. I think I'm ordinary. It is what it is. Now the Spanish voice is gone from my head and all I hear is Popeye.)

Being told I was a DD put me right back to where I was as a troubled teenager-someone bouncing between "big-boned" and "anorexic lite", the flaws always being pointed out in subtly caustic ways. I became the champion of my own damage and in my mind a DD eclipsed the work I had been doing in trying to be ok with myself. I'm not saying DD isn't gorgeous, because most women truly are. DD is a glorious size. But for me, DD is where I came from, not where I wanted to go back to. I think I'm like a cicada, and with each life I shed, I am trying to get to the middle of what I'm really supposed to be.

That, and since I got fitted I've been checking out other women's baps trying to ascertain what their sizes are, and sometime soon it's going to get me punched so I need to get this sorted.

So I exchanged one of Angus' Christmas gift bras on Tuesday and today I needed to exchange the other. I went to a different shop and decided to get a re-fitting, not because I wanted to get felt up, but because I couldn't settle 32DD in my head. The fitting room attendant-a really kind woman-called another woman whose sole purpose in her working life is to measure mammary gland collectors, and without further ado I was stripped to the waist in a fitting room again.

And again, I babbled.

"So I got fitted earlier this week and I just can't believe the size they gave me, a 32DD. Can you believe it? I can't believe it. It's so windy outside. Ever seen a skunk? I know there are no skunks here, but maybe you've seen one. Or not. Not like you smell like one, and neither do I, I was just thinking about skunks."

"32DD?" the woman replied, her eyebrows disappearing into her widow's peak. "Not a chance."

"Oh thank you," I replied, calming down.

"You're way too big to be a 32," she added, adjusting her own lima bean-sized rack, as though making sure being so close to an over-performing boobinator like myself wouldn't infect her perky little girls.

I stared at her and thought: Oh thanks. Say, while you're down there, how about picking up my ego when you're done wiping your feet on it?

She zips the measuring tape around me. "You're a big girl, a very broad back. You're at least a 38."

OH MY GOD.

A 38?

I start panicking.

"That can't be right. I was wearing a 36, and I wore that on the tightest setting," I say in a pleading voice.

"Well, all I can say is you look to be a 38. I'd go 38 C. You're quite large," she says, smacking her lips together and exiting. I watched her leave and thought: One day, I will meet you in a dark alley with a jar of marshmallow cream, and I will make you eat every last bite you WHORE.

Right.

I now felt even worse than I did when I was now pronounced Mrs. 32DD.

I slowly put my clothes on and feel terrible. I've gone from small frame to Big Bertha. Not that 38 is Big Bertha, I'm not saying that, I just can't figure out where I'm supposed to be. Suddenly I am knocking cats off of beds and swaddled in bandages all over again. And in myself, I know that I personally am a shape that I recognize and am ok with most of the time-Angus and I both gained weight over the holidays, but both of us have since lost that weight plus some thanks to some hard core dieting we're both doing (healthy, though-we're being healthy.) We've joined a new gym and are both feeling better about ourselves and the dwindling number of the scale.

I decide I'm not ready to go back down that path of self-hatred just yet.

Once back amongst the bras, I resolve to think for myself. Maybe I don't have to be a 32DD, and I don't have to be a 38C. There has to be something that fits me somewhere in between. So I grab a range of sizes and march back to the dressing room. It takes me ages, and my ribcage is scratched and raw looking from all the lace as I'm one of those who simply cannot do up my bra at the back-I have to hook it frontways and then circle it round the ribcage to get it on.

And I found a size that I feel fits me perfectly-when I tighten the straps I feel more secure and strapped down than I think I ever have done before (with the exception of a sports bra, whose sole purpose in life is to beat those bitches down.) I turn in all directions of the mirror. I try on several styles. I find that I have to be careful-some styles make this size in what I call "Wind Sail" variety, where Robinson Crusoe could've just strapped my bras on to the mast to set sail. In one style, I find I am a different cup even (a C). I think from now on, I'll have to try bras on before I'll know for sure.

But hi.

I'm a 34D.

And I'm mostly ok with that.

On my way out of the dressing room, the first woman (the nice, I-don't-eat-Teen-Miss-magazine-for-breakfast woman) smiles. "Did you find the right fit?"

I smile back. "You know, I think I did."

"Oh that's wonderful!" she beams back. And I find that I agree with her. It is wonderful.

-H.

PS-I'm also taking Ilyka's challenge, mostly because she's Ilyka, but also because I think it's important that we bow down from self-degredation once in a while and appreciate ourselves. Feel free to join in-sometimes we just need a reminder of what's right in our worlds.

So. Five things I like about myself:

1) I have very, very long legs. Years before I learned how to grow into them, it was a bad thing. Now, I love that they are long and go on for ages. I don't care that it makes sizing hard for me, I love my legs. Honest.

2) I think I give good hair.

3) I like the shape of my eyes. A wee bit Asian, unusual color, and they turn up at the corners.

4) I have the recessive trait in that my big toes are smaller than the second and third toes next to them. My second toes are so long they're nearly fingers. I use my toes to pick things off the floor constantly, and I don't care that they're unusually long-I think they're cool.

5) I have very long, very thin fingers. It is one of the few graceful things about me, but I think that they look oddly elegant, even if they're not supposed to.

My five things.

Maybe someday soon I'll include my rack on that list, because I'm beginning to believe that a size is just a size. But that rack of mine? In the killer bra and saucy knickers I got today, they're going to be something else in the privacy of our bedroom this evening.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 12:46 PM | Comments (21) | Add Comment
Post contains 1471 words, total size 8 kb.

1 Also keep in mind that different types of bras (as in style) require different types of sizes. I remember going to VS to find a strapless bra and the lady gave me 3 different types to see which fit the way my boobs were the best. She said that not everything fits all boobs equally.

Posted by: Minawolf at January 18, 2007 01:23 PM (svbR5)

2 I hate being a 105C. I was (just barely) an 85B, which was big, but ok. But I went and gained so much weight. Now I just wear sport bras because everything else in this size is dead ugly.

Posted by: Hannah at January 18, 2007 01:50 PM (5w+E2)

3 now you've got me all paranoid over whether my bras really fit or not!

Posted by: geeky at January 18, 2007 02:22 PM (ziVl9)

4 For the record, I'd never get tired of hearing about your boobs.

Posted by: donna at January 18, 2007 02:48 PM (e2lwS)

5 You are so funny. I love your 5 things list. I have long, thin fingers too. My mom always told me that trait as well as long, slim feet are the marks of aristocracy. I believed her...LOL

Posted by: kenju at January 18, 2007 02:58 PM (L8e9z)

6 Thanks for passing on the 5 things bit... I've gone and done it on my own blog. It was difficult to do, but I think it was good.

Posted by: Hannah at January 18, 2007 04:25 PM (5w+E2)

7 Well the 34D makes sense. Generally if you go up a band size and down a cup size, it is a VERY similar sized bra. 34D's are way easier to find! And for the record, I'm a 38C It is probably THE most common size out there, I can NEVER fucking find it!

Posted by: Dani at January 18, 2007 04:27 PM (tsq+l)

8 Hi - Ok, your post rules. I have tig ol bitties (that is meant to be funny, btw...) and I have had a terrible time with bras, bra fittings, bra fitting ladies, etc. Imagine this scene: I am in old skool beverly hills bra shop to be fitted, as these ladies are supposedly legendary in their fit skillz. It's summer, in LA, so it's hot. And this place has no a/c. And I'm bare from the waist up with an ancient russian lady (who has about one million bobby pins in her very small amount of hair) staring at the girls...judging them! So she brings some big old non pretty bra in, I try it on, it fits pretty good, I'm totally sweating, and so, I buy it and escape from Strange Bra Mountain. One month later I'm on a quickie vacation in San Francisco, and my friends gently suggest we go into this super fancy underwear store, as, uh, maybe it's not right to have 4 boobs? That still somehow droop? Yes, we had spillage. Because THAT BRA, FITTIED BY ANCIENT LADIES TRAINED IN THE BRA ARTS, DID NOT FIT. So I paid way to much money and got a bra that gave me two, two boobs, which was better. I could tell you a million bra fitting stories, but, in a nutshell, in my experience, bra fitters might know what they're doing, they most likely don't, you can be five different sizes on the same day in the same fitting room. Trust no bra person, and, if need be, rip out the size tags as they are arbitrary. Bra shopping is just craptacular.

Posted by: Miss K at January 18, 2007 05:13 PM (EM7ls)

9 As my bra digs in to my back and I begin to wonder if I'm wearing a very short corset... I'm afraid to go get measured properly (being laughed at makes me cry), but if you're brave enough to do it twice in one week then maybe I should just tell my inner voice to shut the heck up. At least, then, maybe (?) I could possibly breathe.

Posted by: Opal at January 18, 2007 05:18 PM (wPTRh)

10 I'm glad you found a size that is comfortable physically and emotionally. My second toe is longer than my first toe as well.

Posted by: sophie at January 18, 2007 05:42 PM (1HOa8)

11 I do not know one woman who truly knows her bra size. Go into multiple lingerie stores and they will all tell you something different. Stick with what works for you, and be happy with yourself-you are beautiful. And I know you know that the only one who sees your supposed "flaws" is you. ;-)

Posted by: Teresa at January 18, 2007 06:34 PM (d3ILA)

12 They're your girls, and they fit you, right? Who cares about the numbers?? Funny thing, I have toes like you and I am constantly using them like fingers, too.

Posted by: caltechgirl at January 18, 2007 08:46 PM (/vgMZ)

13 Five things that I like about myself? 1. My hands. They're short and pudgy, but I've taken to getting manicures and keeping my nails up and I've found that I actually LIKE my hands. I think they're feminine and pretty. Even if I do have dimples instead of knuckles most of the time. 2. My collar bone. I have a freckle right in the middle of that dip and I love it. Plus, I was heavy for YEARS and the collar bone area was the first place where I lost weight. 3. I'm funny. I can take a joke and I can be pretty damn hilarious sometimes. I tend to have a dry sense of humor and sometimes I can have that PERFECT witty response to something someone says and they don't even realize that I've cut them to shreds with my scathing wit for a few minutes. 4. I have a big dimple in one cheek. I have to admit, I tend to use that thing to get me out of trouble. 5. My mad, crazy movie quoting skills. Make that skillz with a "Z", they're that good.

Posted by: Lindsay at January 18, 2007 11:08 PM (fC15Y)

14 I'm a 34A. Up until about 3 years ago I was a 34AA. Although I've always wanted my boobs to be a LITTLE bit bigger, I'm glad I don't have the issues that large breasts bring. Ironically, it wasn't until I gained weight from infertility treatments that I even went up to an A, but at least I can shop at VS now.

Posted by: Donna at January 18, 2007 11:08 PM (Aanzg)

15 I know how you feel... I"m all knockers too, but I've found that the size depends as much on the bra as on me... I'm working on getting less hung up about the numbers and making sure the garment fits. Sometimes the numbers are bigger and sometimes the letters. But if the thing fits and looks... how you say? Sexy? I say bugger the numbers...

Posted by: deeleea at January 19, 2007 12:01 AM (rw+X7)

16 You totally do give good hair! Very, very jealous of the hair. Attempts to grow mine long and luxe like yours would end in, well, a lot of split ends. There aren't enough hot oil treatments in the world to prevent it.

Posted by: ilyka at January 19, 2007 05:34 AM (bbpKI)

17 I agree with donna- keep the boob stories coming! And in all my years as a gay man, never thought I'd EVER say that.

Posted by: Robert at January 19, 2007 08:58 PM (uV3Pe)

18 Yeah! I'm with donna too.. I commute between Castle Rock and Vancouver 4 days a week and I get a good eyefull of Mt.St.Helen just about everyday. Of course now I will always see it as Mount Saint Helen(s) Boob. Ha.

Posted by: j.m at January 20, 2007 04:17 AM (k3v0Q)

19 Going bra shopping is just as pleasent as trying on bathing suits in the stark bright light that doesn't hide cellulite dimples....You want to run screaming from the shop like you're on fire. I understand your pain...and I'm glad you found a size that fits. Oh, if I were you I'd have slapped the shit out of that sales woman. Calling a customer "Big Girl" is a good way to lose your front teeth, and it's not a good thing to say if you want commission on a potential sale either.

Posted by: Heidi at January 20, 2007 06:23 AM (Ja68j)

20 I always find these conversations entertaining. From my observational experience, it appears as though bra manufacturers have the same problem sizing their product as most makers of women's garments. A 36B in one brand becomes a 35D in another, meaning that you women get constantly screwed when trying to assess your body type. "But I'm not a [insert size]! I've always been a [insert other size, defined by preferred clothing maker]." I think that bra manufacturers have a mean streak in them because they seem to delight in messing with the heads of women. Anyway, here's the guy theory of clothes: if it fits, wear it. Everything else is just noise.

Posted by: physics geek at January 22, 2007 05:55 PM (KqeHJ)

21 In the South, if your second toe is longer than your big toe, the saying is that you will rule your house and your husband. Any other dominant traits we should know about?

Posted by: Oda Mae at January 23, 2007 06:41 AM (kyNqP)

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