Lumpy Girl Claire
My Cups Runneth Over

I can't avoid it any longer. I've made do as long as I can and now I need to take action. I've tightened the straps, and cinched in to the smallest hooks, but to no avail. I'm going to have to buy new.

I don't know why it never occurred to me that this would happen when I lost weight. I had to buy new pants, didn't I? I bought smaller shirts. Why would I think that I wouldn't also need smaller bras?

Now, smaller is a relative term. Although it appears that I have lost significant enough back fat to make my bras loose, it also appears that the cup size has remained the same. I'm not really sure how that happened, but I'm not going to complain.

You have to be in the right frame of mind to shop for a bra. It involves getting half naked in a public dressing room, bruising your delicate parts with those hard plastic theft prevention devices, and fending off sales girls wielding tape measures who want to "fit" you.

I'm sure that they are very detached and professional about it, just like the mammogram technician who grabs your breast as if she's shaking your hand, but it still offends my sensibilities. So, I grab a bunch of bras in a size smaller, close myself into a fitting room, and the bra girl and I shout back and forth about how they are fitting.

Uh, oh! Bad news. The bras fit around me comfortably but the cup size is too small. Too small! OK, there is no way I got bigger.

I am distracted from my wailing by a box of bras that has just been slid under the door. They are the size I've been wearing. Hey, maybe my problem is failed elastic, not the need for a smaller size. Nope, these are too loose - just like the ones I own. Now what?

This is where things started getting frightening.

I don't wear a small cup size to begin with. It's the size where if it were your grade on your report card, you'd be grounded. Bra girl suggests I try the next cup size - the dreaded double letter cup. How can this be?

Afraid I might bolt if she shows me too many at once, the girl hands one bra over the door. She's clearly been through this before.

I reluctantly take the bra. It's big. I think if I put in on my head, it would cover my ears. I almost try. Then I slip it on the correct way, hook the hooks and...it fits!

I look in the mirror. Whoa! There's no way I'm buying that. I'm big but do I need the industrial strength bra? I'm losing weight here. Things should be getting smaller and more delicate. I just can't do it!

I ask if there is anything else that would work. She suggests going back to my original cup size and trying a bra that would let some of that, er, overage come out the top. Huh! I didn't know that was an option.

She slides in the new bra. It's beautiful. Definitely plenty of overflow space - plus some padding to help me spill out. I've been contemplating push-ups, but I was thinking exercise - not bras.

My back to the mirror, I hook the contraption around me, twist it into place and slide the straps up my arms. Hmmm. It's comfortable and seems to fit. Turning slowly I face my reflection.

Yikes! That's some décolletage! I could be a Victoria's Secret underwear model. Or be in a Baywatch remake - as long as they didn't show my thighs.

This is so not me.

I want one in every color!

Sadly, beauty does not come without a price - in this case $40. Needless to say, I only bought one. I look great in it though, so it was worth it.

And $40 is a small price to pay to have my breasts closer to my chin than my navel. It's been a while since I could say that.

As I continue to lose weight, this all might change and I'll find myself again behind a closed door shouting with the bra girl. No matter what the size, I plan to keep an optimistic attitude.

You know...the cup is always half full…

Claire