bras. whatever.

I held out hope until about twenty-five that I would wake up one morning with an enormous rack. It didn't happen. Which, for all intents and purposes, is probably for the best. I think if I'd gotten the jumblies I always wanted, I'd be all Katy-Perry-bikinis-on-top every chance I got. Apparently, someone thought I couldn't be trusted with a large chest. They might have been right. We'll never know.

If nothing else, I find that it's healthy to have a running joke with yourself about a physical shortcoming. Not that it even IS a physical shortcoming. The only reason that I even categorize it this way is because it's not the ideal. I can be certain of that because Victoria's Secret no longer carries my size in anything other than a push-up variety (save for their Pink line, which is quite obviously meant for teenagers and women with daddy issues). Now then. What does that say? I know. How dare I be comfortable in my own skin. "Yes, unhelpful-lady-in-unflattering-black-suit-with-unnecessary-headset, I am seeking a 34A WITHOUT padding. Oh, that doesn't exist? That's awesome. Please, point me in the direction of something else that might lower my self-esteem."

Surely I'm not the only woman who isn't interested in strapping two pounds of padding onto her chest in the name of better fulfilling the fantasies of men who she doesn't know, nor would like to get to know. That seems like something one would jump to pay $48 for, right? It's pretty appalling that our perfection-obsessed culture has pushed a brand to believe that women with only modest lady lumps couldn't possibly be content, and are simply seeking a solution until we can spring for surgery. Note to VS: this is not the case. A few of us might still just like a lovely bra that subtly swathes our bosom. And we'll shop elsewhere.

Every now and then I'll put on something that makes me think, This would look better with a nice pair. Sure. But that's as deep as my self-loathing runs (in this arena anyway). That is until Victoria's Secret just stops carrying 34A altogether, and I'm forced to continue my adult life with band-aids over my nipples. That would be sad.