Girl Talk (Guys, You've Been Warned...)

Yesterday, the underwire in my bra broke through the lining and poked me every time I tried to use the keyboard.

Guess it's time to buy a new bra. Actually, I need two of them because another one is wearing out.

I hate bra shopping. Hubs doesn't understand that. But then we have different opinions on what, exactly, bras are supposed to do. I'm interested in support and comfort. Let's just say that's not high on his list. ;)

The bra that just died is a T-back bra I bought specifically for a sleeveless sheath dress that was cut a bit higher on the shoulder and a bit deeper in the back than a tank top usually is. I am old-fashioned enough to believe that straps of undergarments should not be exposed. The other bra has narrow straps and smooth cups for the tank-style sweaters that I find I wear a lot these days, as I never know quite when a "personal summer" is going to hit.

The problem with shopping for a bra is the fit varies among manufacturers. All 36Bs are not the same. And then there is style: demimonde? decollete? full cup? lightly padded? pushup? (Yeah, that's what I want for work--a bra that emphasizes my boobs!) Am I full-figured? Am I in-between? The other problem is price. I am a cheapskate. If they expect me to pay more than $20 for a bra, it better do more than merely "lift and separate!"

Long gone are the days when my mother took me to Penney's and a blue-haired matron wearing cat's eye glasses, a pencil behind her ear, took the tape measure from around her neck and proclaimed me a 32A. Who then followed said matron out of the dressing room to a case, opened the drawer, and handed my mother a box containing a white cotton bra in the appropriate size. Which my mother handed to me, saying, "Try this on and see if it fits." I know, I know--there are stores out there now who also claim to have "fitters." But I have yet to see one. At least, one who is willing to sell me a $20 bra!

Because I am so particular about fit, comfort, and function (known in our house as the "jump test"), I cannot shop with someone else. My daughters lose patience. My husband heads for Fredrick's.

Meanwhile, I just won't wear that sheath dress...