I hate, loathe, even, bra shopping. So much so that I have only one bra. I’m not fancy, but I guess it really isn’t fair to my “girls”.
My girls, by the way, are called “Airf” and “Orce”. This comes from a time in my very early 20’s, when I donned an Air Force tee, whilst actually jogging, and my husband pointed out that this shirt prominently displayed a couple of national treasures, Airf and Orce. Ohhh to be a perky 20 year old who jogs… Anyway, last week one of my underwires broke. Yesterday at work, it started poking the hell out of my left girl, aka “Orce”. After complaining about it to any female coworker that would listen, I decided to go to the bathroom and pull that bitch out.
I was completely topless, in the roomy handicapped stall, trying like hell to get that tiny, p.o.s. wire out of my melon holster. It wouldn’t budge. I am at work, in the bathroom, half naked, sweating my ass off, and it ain’t moving!! I seriously contemplated throwing the whole thing in the garbage, and going commando. I wear an apron, who would notice? Until ole’ Airf met a hot grill or something. Arghh. Finally, after about 20 minutes, of blood, sweat, and almost tears, I resorted to using my teeth – so now I’m hot, sweaty, half naked, and chewing on the damn thing – but it finally came free!
This whole fantastic experience had me thinking, why, for ladies with large breast-t-szzz, do they use such thin, crappy wire!? They should make those bitches out of rebar!!