Me, Me, Me, Me, Me (Part 1,000,000) (and some stuff about boobs)

I've been rather quiet this week. Sometimes the whole self-obsessiveness associated with blogging trips me up. This week I've been more aware of it than I have been inclined to think of something witty to write. Not for lack of trying, mind you. I have drafted several posts this week in subjects ranging from Seasonal Affective Disorder (I have it and it sucks. 'Nuff said) to dating droughts (When it rains, it pours. When it doesn't, alas, it doesn't) to attention-suckers (People who suck all the attention in a room towards themselves--which can sometimes cause you to grow annoyed with people who you think should be capable of seeing through them) and not one of them has constituted an interesting post.

Life just seems comfortably boring. Work is fine, life is fine, my house is fine. I will say that I went bra shopping yesterday and although what I bought fit at the time, my breasts are having some issues with it today. Or rather, one of them is. The other is perfectly well adjusted as always, but the half-a-cup-size-larger-one is causing trouble yet again. I am banking on the fact that bras tend to stretch out a little after a few wears. It seemed fine yesterday when I tried it on. Demi cup, nice lift, good cleavage. When the saleswoman asked what I was looking for in a bra I said "something that will prevent my breasts from dragging on the floor?" (see how I used lame humor to mask my discomfort in discussing my breasts with a stranger? WASPs don't talk about our breasts. We blog about them) She laughed and handed me the one I have on now. It's rather pretty in an all black kinda way. But when did bras at VS get to be 50 dollars? Didn't they used to be a bit cheaper?

It's interesting how men fetishize breasts so much and for women they can be such a friggin' pain. I don't know any women who don't complain about bra shopping. There's some statistic out there claiming that some huge majority of women wear the wrong bra size. Which I don't doubt at all, seeing as how the sizing guides are completely out of wack. Most tell me I'm a 36B. One once told me I was a 30F. A saleslady at Nordstrom's once told me I was a 34B. See? All these conflicting opinions. Where on earth will I be able to find a bra in a 30 freaking F? That's ridiculous. I've arrived at a size that generally tends to work, based mostly on trial and error, completely opposed to conventional sizing charts--up some cup sizes, down some band sizes. I know I had hit the right size when out with Lulu one night, her first words when she saw me were "Your breasts look great. New bra, right?"

So boys (and women who favor hot girl-on-girl action), I say to you this--next time you're admiring your lady-friend in her new bra, appreciate the pains it probably took for her to find the one that fit just right.