The A, B, C's...

I received some very depressing news yesterday. I went to get a bra from Victoria's Secret.

Actually, before I tell the sad tale, I have to tell you that I have an obssession with my boobs. They hardly qualify as "breasts" anymore. I had a great chest when I was younger. It was the envy of many a woman. Then I had kids. One kid nursed so much she depleted all the filling out of my left breast. I became lopsided. But I still had a big enough chest. Even though I stood leaning to one side to compensate for my "hanger." Then, the youngest delivered the death blow. After she was done nursing in between bites, they shriveled ( they were scared they were going to be gnawed off). Yet I was still a C.

So I lost weight and went to B. I was very happy at B. My friend Amy was very happy about that, too: She was the recepient of all my great Victoria's Secret C bras.

Well yesterday I went to get a bra at Vickies, and guess what? The bra I tried on gapped . I gasped. Then I sucked it up and asked the lady to fit me. She pursed her lips and did her job then said those fatal words.

"You are an A cup, this is too big for you honey." I almost swooned. Then she had the nerve to say "All us small-breasted woman go for this bra."

"Speak for yourself sister, In my mind I will always be a C." I huffed before grabbing a push-up bra she handed me.