Actually there’s not much in this world that I DO hate. Misquitos. . .warm soft drinks. . .people traveling 70+ MPH who don’t use their blinkers. . .yet at the tippy top of my list of things I really, truly detest would be bra shopping. That’s right. I cannot STAND shopping for bras. In fact, I have put it off for so long the underwire in my bras has become decrepit to the point that it squeaks. Now, I cannot imagine a sound that one would WANT one’s breasts to make. . .however, if one had to choose, I’m pretty sure that squeaking would NOT be at the top of one’s list. Inspired by the chorus that accompanied me each day (and my insane loathing of bra shopping), I began eyeing Tony’s can of WD-40 as a possible solution.
Eventually common sense won out–not to mention the fact that I doubt Oxyclean could handle the mess left from a shot of WD-40 to undergarments, so tonight I sallied forth–squeaking all the way–with the best attitude I could muster. I was also humming as I shopped because depending on the store. . .the number size. . .the cup formation. . .the fabric. . .the brand. . .I run the gammet from cup size to cup size. “A, B, C, D, E, F, quadruple F. . .” This makes the shopping (squeak, squeak) quadruple frustrating.
A very helpful young woman named Tamara was trying to give me good customer service as I had explained my severe hatred for bra shopping as well as the music that my lack of bra shopping had brought me, but she was a bit on the young side and kept showing up with turquoise and bright purple choices. After thanking Tamara for her help, then going to a different store where I could choose from nude/black/white in peace, I eventually came home with three new bras. I cannot say that I am thrilled with them, but they will do.
And all is quiet.