booby prizes and hammock bras

On another note entirely from my last rant...I finally gave in to relentless nagging (thanks Nanna) and went to get measured for a bra for the first time since puberty. Bear in mind that since then I have given birth,and lost then gained varying degrees of weight,and I was expecting a certain amount of change. I mean,the old 36C was getting a little tight.I went in expecting to walk out with a D cup. Maybe in a 38. Oh no. We didnt even LOOK at D cups. I was marched straight to the E section. Ok. We can deal with being half naked in front of a lady who,bless her,didnt bat an eyelid at the numerous large tattoos,crazy hair and general state of bad dress sense (look,the sesame street t was the only one that was dry,ok?!)We can deal with all this while being in the kind of posh store rich old ladies-and no doubt a few of em even have the title legit-but being told one is 2 big for an E cup?! Jeez. When the shirt came of revealing the full extent of the cleavage straining at the bra,on well manicured eyebrow shot up,and the E cup which had been chosen swiftly returned to the shop floor while I stood half naked in a cubicle wondering what was coming next. (now theres a line...) What came next was the tape measure.Turns out,Im a little thinner than I thought-Im actually a 32.Thats cool. I can live with that. The EE was however,not going to cut it. My cup runneth over.It wasnt a good look-think vegas hooker in unfortunate laundromat mixup...Okay,so out come the big guns (haha) the F cups. Surely,these would do it. Nearly,nearly,turn around madam,oops...still the escaping from maximum security look...Finally,we stop at FF.Yeah. All those years wandering round with barely contained cleavage suddenly made sense.Having paid my travel fees for a month to get out of there wearing something strangely ...comfortable...? I retreated wearing what felt less like undies and more like civil engineering in beige.Yum.Next stop,somewhere that sells stuff in colours that dont match the wallpaper...And that is where the problem started. I thought buying a bra was hard BEFORE,but now,ah wow,its a whole new problem. Check for 32-no probs,as long as you dont have a cup larger than a DD. Check for FF,and try finding something smaller than a 34-you see where Im going with this?! Finally,after much searching,squeezed into a 32F (still more comfortable,embarrassingly enough than what I have been wearing for the last 11 years...) and spent the rest of my 'mad money' for the month on a few items with at least a bit of lace and some silk. Now,I decide while Im here I ought to call Nanna and inform her that Ive finally given in and listened. I called. I got Mum. I told her. I put the phone down when she cut us off because she was laughing so hard. Thanks Ma! In all fairness,she did call back and apologise,she just thought it was so funny that Ive been SO badly wrong all these years and not 'caused an accident with those puppies'. woof. Now,the more pleasant call to the man in my life...'well hon,the bad news is,Im not a 36,Im a 32.' 'Oh'. Pause while he thinks of something sweet to say along the lines of 'well I love you anyway'. Interrupt train of thought with 'but Im a FF'. ' ahhh yeah?!! ' 'My bras now need planning permission.' 'aaahhhh yeahhh...!!! Yup,they may not actually be any bigger now than they were in the other bras,but now theres more of my undies I have apparently made one man at least very happy. Im guessing its like sport to them,the bigger the cup the more points you get in the locker room...?Bless him,at least someones happy-too bad he wont be when he figures out it'll cost him more to buy me undies in future... :)