Awkward moment when you're fed up with your ill-fitting sucky ass bras, so you go to Soma! (Women's lingerie store) and the first thing the lady asks is... DO YOU KNOW YOUR BRA SIZE OR DO YOU WANT TO BE MEASURED? And I'm like.... Size? Size? (I've always been one to guess-timate and buy whatever doesn't make my boobs look like ___ ) So obvi I tell Hippy Bra lady that I want to be measured feeling confident as ____ about my tatas, my juggalos, my girls, my funbags, my BOOBS Only to find out that, I'm not a C, I'm not a B.... I'm..... I'm..... AN A CUP I just felt so let down by my boobs. We had so much riding on this. (Ok not really) But like your boobs are a pretty deal. Right? It's like a guy's junk. You maybe overestimate a little. Worry about it.... Am I an inadequate? Am I smaller than a hand? Is there even anything to grab? *Cue Identity Crisis* It's okay, I bought some cute bras and panties. Actually no, they were sexy. It was an underwear drawer upgrade. Like Nubian goddess type ish. And I was fine. All was well *CONFIDENCE RESTORED* *The End*
That was me when I lost weight, I went from a double D to a large B small C...I'm in between boob sizes they can't make up their mind, so going bra shopping is like... My mom has super huge boobs and trust me you don't want that, each of her bras have to come from special big boob stores and they're $80 a pop.