Words of White

Another.

So I had another harrowing pregnancy experience this week - entirely because of my own personality, not because it was actually painful.

I've been avoiding purchasing bras for several weeks because I'm just over halfway to my due date and I know there's no way the ones I buy now will still fit later. I hate shopping, I hate bra shopping because no one in the world makes well-fitting bras, and I particularly hate spending a lot of money on something I know I will only be able to wear for so long. "so long" being at maximum about three months at this point.

So Monday night, Tim and I head to the mall (confession: because of my work hours, we only got there about an hour before closing time). We start with a big department store with the biggest selection of lingerie I've ever seen.

27 bras later, I've got a stuffy nose because the dressing rooms aren't cleaned regularly, I want to kick someone because of two 17 year olds in the dressing room who may have been drunk and were loud, giggly and generally rude, and I haven't even been able to find a bra I can put on, much less wear comfortably. And I've been trying on the largest sizes the store carries.

We run across a few spindles of the wheel, which is how our mall is set up, and try the motherhood maternity store. Aha, I think, there must be some more comfortable and better fitting bras here.

A short wall of black, tan and white greets me. Look, I know I'm not a teeny person, but I would like to know who made the rule that once you pass a c-cup, you only like to wear these three colors.

Anyway, I'm already upset because of how many I tried on in the department store that didn’t remotely fit - I hate shopping, I hate bras, etc. I've graduated to my whiny voice, which no one should ever have to hear and Tim finds extremely ridiculous, so he is in "lecture mode" whereas he explains to me that I need to get over the fact that I hate shopping and man up. I try on a handful more bras, going up significantly in size just to find one that fits.

I still can't find one big enough. Even the maternity store doesn't carry anything remotely comfortable. I burst into tears in the dressing room - the store's closing in about ten minutes and I've had no luck at two of the places I assumed would be the most successful.

I buy two of the largest ones I can find - they at least provide some support, even though they squeeze my ribcage. They're better than what I already have, and I'll return them if I can find better ones. Tim continues to lecture me both on the way home and when we arrive, because he can't understand (nor can I, to be honest) why I get so upset about just finding something that fits. None of this helps. I end the day in tears, without the bras I need, not so excited about another day without one. (Caveat: I've had some upheavals in my job situation recently that sort of resulted in good opportunities but mostly left me feeling of no value or talent, requiring me to spend the next several months in my third trimester and during maternity leave working very hard to find new opportunities, and I'm still recovering from that, so the upset-state could be residual)

Last night, we tried again. Shopping two nights in a row, hurrah, right? No.

We started at a maternity plus store, which boasted a whole section of plus-sized clothing. They had a total of four bras that were possibly big enough: two covered in nasty, itchy lace and the other two with fabric as thin as the new fad of "green" TP that seems to be everywhere and requires three handfuls to utilize properly. Yes, I did just put a toilet paper reference in here. Neither the lace nor the Saran-wrap thin fit well at all. I asked the employee if any of the other bras came in larger sizes, and she said only the ones I had tried on.

Great. The plus-sized maternity store doesn't carry anything that works for me.

So we descended into Lane Bryant. No offense to anyone who has ever or regularly shopped there - they have very nice clothing, but I have never had to shop at a store because of the number size on my clothes before. That was a little disconcerting.

However, I shall be lauding Lane Bryant forever in the future: they had everything I needed. A huge selection (with colors other than tan and white!), several different fits, many of which would have been okay, and I found one style in particular that is marvelously comfortable and a perfect fit. They had a buy two-get two sale, (BTGT, instead of BOGO) and though the prices weren't super cheap, they were about the same as I would have paid at any other store. Plus, I got four instead of the two I had resigned myself to living with for the next several weeks.

Thank. Goodness. We left triumphant, and thanked the salesman (yes. Man. In Lane Bryant. I refrained from asking why he worked there -- I was slightly afraid of his answer. I did, however, ask why in the world some of the bras had little air pockets in them -- he informed me it was for cleavage purposes. Said air cups were very uncomfortable!).

It was not an experience I'd like to ever repeat, though I fear for what I will need to do in another few weeks/months.

But now I am recovered and comfortable again, and getting ready to celebrate my birthday tomorrow!!!