In continuing the thread of being totally floored my measureing myself the other day, I offer you this:
Saturday morning. I'm on my own for the weekend because Erik has to go out of town. When I got home last night there was a notification that a package had come for me and was at the post office.
I got up early and watched Saw, which is a good movie. Plenty of blood and guts, which I love, but also a psychologial thriller with a nice twist at the end that you have absolutley no clue is coming. I won't give it away, but I will say that there is a scene with THE BEST use of a toilet tank cover, EVER. Hands down. I was cheering. 8am and I'm alone in my room cheering. You know that has to be a good movie.
So, I get up and put on my pants and a ball cap, cuz I don't want to comb my greasy hair, and then I make three trips up and down my stairs because I keep forgetting key components. Cell phone, cigarettes (of which I smoked none while I was out) and last but not least, the little note you have to have to get the package. Mrs Dumass? That would be me. der.
Finally, I hit the street and it's gorgeous out. Overcast, cool and empty. I walked up 20th to Capp St, took a right down to 22nd and then a left over to South Van Ness and another couple blocks down to the post office. Great walk. 'Specially when there are goodies at the end of the trip (and there always are).
Today I got another one of the Vera Bradley bags I have been pigging out on lately. Woo-hoo! Still three more coming. And I'm bidding on another. I think I may need an intervention.
Egg is yelling at my window right now. Gods, I wish he would leave. Ok, he's gone. Where the heck was I?
Oh, yeah, intervention.
I was on 23rd street and wondering what I should do for the next coupel of minutes. Not really wanting to head home yet. Then Wal gr eens loomed up in front of me on Mission and 23rd. Ah, yes. Spending some money at wally's always makes me feel better.
I wander in and the place is dead. Just opened. A midget works there. He had a long ponytail. Midget? Little person. I don't know what anyone wants to be called anymore. That's not the point.
Right past the first aisle, the one with all the yummy lotions, is a bin, or a speed table, depending on how into retail operations you are. It's full of bras. 3/$10. $3.99ea. Hmm. I sense an experiment coming on.
You know where this is going don't you?
I dove head first into the bin of ugly brassieres, desperately searching for a 40DD.
There were none. There were 44B's which sort of made me sad (and made me think of that quote who's source has long been forgotten "for a fat chick, you sure got some small tits". Lovely).
There were lots of 38B's which I already have a bunch of so I didn't look at them twice.
The closest I could come up with was a 38D.
A very respectable 38D with slightly padded cups, a double hook, back closure, non-adjustable straps and no underwire. White.
Translate this into JJese and it sounds a lot like "a bra I would not be caught dead in".
So I bought it. I also bought some Wal proxen and an eggnog flavored ice pop.
Then I wandered around the neighborhood some more, the ugly bra burning a shameful hole in the Wal0greens branded bag. I tied the bag onto my belt loop so I couldn't see it anymore. Then I went to Whole Paycheck, I mean Wholefoods, and got some $9 mouthwash and $7 deodorant. It's ok. I am a grown up and can afford to buy myself nice stuff that I like. I don't have brats around that squirt the stuff down the sink. I was so poor for soo long and buying toiletries at the 99c store. In the words of that broad from gone with the wind, "God as my witness, I shall never go hungry again!" or something like that.
On with the story. I got back home and tore my shirt off. I had to pee, but didn't want to wait another second to put the huge, ugly bra on and prove for once and for all that I am NOT a DD, go on, quit it, it just ain't true!
The thing fits like a fucking charm, pardon my cursing and my mixed metaphor.
Now, can someone tell me why? Why?
Why does my 38B, and my 36B and this new, ugly 38D all fit me just the same?
What the heck is going on here?
Is there so much inconsistancy in the world of over the shoulder boulder holders that it doesn't really matter? Will Victoria's Secret ever have a cute racerback with an underwire and a front closure, in my size, on sale?
And while you are answering questions, can you tell me why people stand in doorways when doorways are for walking in and out of? And why, when they can see you coming, do they just stand there looking at you rather than get the heck out of the way?
That's all I got. Thanks for playing.
Saturday morning. I'm on my own for the weekend because Erik has to go out of town. When I got home last night there was a notification that a package had come for me and was at the post office.
I got up early and watched Saw, which is a good movie. Plenty of blood and guts, which I love, but also a psychologial thriller with a nice twist at the end that you have absolutley no clue is coming. I won't give it away, but I will say that there is a scene with THE BEST use of a toilet tank cover, EVER. Hands down. I was cheering. 8am and I'm alone in my room cheering. You know that has to be a good movie.
So, I get up and put on my pants and a ball cap, cuz I don't want to comb my greasy hair, and then I make three trips up and down my stairs because I keep forgetting key components. Cell phone, cigarettes (of which I smoked none while I was out) and last but not least, the little note you have to have to get the package. Mrs Dumass? That would be me. der.
Finally, I hit the street and it's gorgeous out. Overcast, cool and empty. I walked up 20th to Capp St, took a right down to 22nd and then a left over to South Van Ness and another couple blocks down to the post office. Great walk. 'Specially when there are goodies at the end of the trip (and there always are).
Today I got another one of the Vera Bradley bags I have been pigging out on lately. Woo-hoo! Still three more coming. And I'm bidding on another. I think I may need an intervention.
Egg is yelling at my window right now. Gods, I wish he would leave. Ok, he's gone. Where the heck was I?
Oh, yeah, intervention.
I was on 23rd street and wondering what I should do for the next coupel of minutes. Not really wanting to head home yet. Then Wal gr eens loomed up in front of me on Mission and 23rd. Ah, yes. Spending some money at wally's always makes me feel better.
I wander in and the place is dead. Just opened. A midget works there. He had a long ponytail. Midget? Little person. I don't know what anyone wants to be called anymore. That's not the point.
Right past the first aisle, the one with all the yummy lotions, is a bin, or a speed table, depending on how into retail operations you are. It's full of bras. 3/$10. $3.99ea. Hmm. I sense an experiment coming on.
You know where this is going don't you?
I dove head first into the bin of ugly brassieres, desperately searching for a 40DD.
There were none. There were 44B's which sort of made me sad (and made me think of that quote who's source has long been forgotten "for a fat chick, you sure got some small tits". Lovely).
There were lots of 38B's which I already have a bunch of so I didn't look at them twice.
The closest I could come up with was a 38D.
A very respectable 38D with slightly padded cups, a double hook, back closure, non-adjustable straps and no underwire. White.
Translate this into JJese and it sounds a lot like "a bra I would not be caught dead in".
So I bought it. I also bought some Wal proxen and an eggnog flavored ice pop.
Then I wandered around the neighborhood some more, the ugly bra burning a shameful hole in the Wal0greens branded bag. I tied the bag onto my belt loop so I couldn't see it anymore. Then I went to Whole Paycheck, I mean Wholefoods, and got some $9 mouthwash and $7 deodorant. It's ok. I am a grown up and can afford to buy myself nice stuff that I like. I don't have brats around that squirt the stuff down the sink. I was so poor for soo long and buying toiletries at the 99c store. In the words of that broad from gone with the wind, "God as my witness, I shall never go hungry again!" or something like that.
On with the story. I got back home and tore my shirt off. I had to pee, but didn't want to wait another second to put the huge, ugly bra on and prove for once and for all that I am NOT a DD, go on, quit it, it just ain't true!
The thing fits like a fucking charm, pardon my cursing and my mixed metaphor.
Now, can someone tell me why? Why?
Why does my 38B, and my 36B and this new, ugly 38D all fit me just the same?
What the heck is going on here?
Is there so much inconsistancy in the world of over the shoulder boulder holders that it doesn't really matter? Will Victoria's Secret ever have a cute racerback with an underwire and a front closure, in my size, on sale?
And while you are answering questions, can you tell me why people stand in doorways when doorways are for walking in and out of? And why, when they can see you coming, do they just stand there looking at you rather than get the heck out of the way?
That's all I got. Thanks for playing.
posted by onewetleg @ 10:22 AM
<< Home