Wishful Thinking vs. Reality Check

[Author's Note: Bra Shopping is only this lovely when photographing others' doing it, hopefully in exotic places like -- oh, say, Czekoslavakia!! - Googled image]

Aaargghhhh!!! It's really become more than necessary to go bra-shopping. I HATE BRA SHOPPING. I hate bra shopping actually more than I hate going to the dentist, which means I really hate bra shopping a lot! The last time I went [3? 4? years ago), I bought 3 in each color of the bra I liked, so I've managed to avoid this shopping nightmare quite a while. That's called getting older AND wiser. But alas! All the spring has been sprung in my current cup collectors -- quite a feat when you consider I'm definitely not of the family of well-endowed. Having just now gone on-line to check the Olga Lingerie line to see if my favorite bra is still available, I discovered it is NOT. This, Dear Readers, is no surprise. The best bra lines & styles [not to mention colors] are always discontinued between Cup Collector Shopping Trips, even if you return a mere 3 days later to buy the other 4 you saw at the store on your original purchase date, having figured out this bra you just bought is gonna work & you better go stockpile it!

So ... bra shopping takes on the qualities of a day trip with all the chores and [believe me] none of the anticipation. I happen to be built like a linebacker through the shoulders/back, but -- er -- diminuitive in the all-important cup area. Ever tried finding a 38A bra that wasn't padded for the SuperBowl or strapped (literally) by one of those 3-or-4-hook fasteners in the back and a 6 inch-wide harness around the back & rib-cage? I mean, for myself, that's kinda like putting a surgical suture on a pin prick. Then there's the fight past the pretties, lovelies, & lacies in shops such as Victoria's Secret ... there cometh the reality check. How is it possible to be 'small', like the teenagers, petites and fantastical-but-non-existent winged females these bras are made for, & yet have a womanly shape to the point that the stuff don't fit? ... sigh. For the 9 millionth time, Victoria, LET THE DADGUM SECRET OUT!!!

Plastic surgery not being on my list of possible or desired solutions, I guess I'm stuck trying on the requisite 4,289 bras in 198 styles [underwire? demi? padded? racerback? convertible? t-shirt? full figured? (hey, I SAID my shoulders were broad!) designer line? plunging V?] I'll be packing a case of power bars & a 12-pack o'V-8's, people, not to mention commandeering my Mom's presence -- somebody has to be present to take the hand-off of rejects over the dressing room curtain, & then return with yet a different size, different shape, different color, and at least 4 tempting morsels of ridiculous lace and air.

[Author's Note, Post Script: You all owe me one huge thank you note for refraining from my launch into my usual Cup Collector Shopping Trip Rant about the cost of the cup collectors, particularly in comparison to the insanely inexpensive price tag on jock straps.]