Miracle Bra! Ha! The only miracle here is that I can actually manage to haul my back fat high enough to secure it beneath that oh-so-comfortable underwire.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror in brassiere and panties apparently bought specifically for the woman who would play me on TV – as opposed to the woman I am in real life – it’s easy to recognize that a man looking for a cheap thrill did not design this brassiere. No, a woman with exactly zero body fat designed it; thus eliminating the thought of making any attempt to forge boobs out of overhang found elsewhere.
Same holds true for the panty. As I attempt to craft an ass where once there was one, using only the material now cleverly disguised as my upper thigh, I am quickly coming to the realization that no amount of money spent in fancy lingerie stores is going to make me look like their catalog model when the dress comes off later. My best bet is for a lights-out-quick dive into the anonymous security of duvet.
Isn’t it interesting that the very garment our mother’s burned in a stand for equality, is the one thing we search ever so diligently for, in the just right sexy size and the just right sexy color? Pull it up, push it together – I am woman, see my boobs!
Clothing designers have clearly not been much help in this area. One year it’s all boob – if you don’t have them, go get them! The next, it’s no boobs at all. If you bought them, take them out! If they’re natural, strap’em down! To the best of my knowledge, my au natural boobs did not come with the hidden zipper compartment. Perhaps I could give them a little lift and check underneath, but if it’s not there, I’m sure yet another style of brassiere is going to be required. How am I supposed to manage my wardrobe when I can’t even manage to keep up with the appropriate “in” boob size?
Unfailingly, following this ever changing size trend is the never popular but always present Dress Dart. Really, someone should enact come sort of standard for these or ban them altogether. It’s either too much boob for this dress size leaving the darts pointing to your chin, or not enough boob for the next size up and a very unbecoming flap of fabric that looks weirdly like pointed yet deflated nipples. If I buy the brassiere that flattens me out like a 12-year-old boy, I can wear the size four. The other option is to purchase the brassiere with 4 inches of padding complete with water inserts, swallow my pride, and buy the size six. I suppose the added bonus here is cleavage – even if it is false advertising.
Frankly, I think the entire garment industry is in cahoots. Irrespective of which size dress you buy, next stop: lingerie. Seems every outfit needs its own special style and color now. You might as well just secure each brassiere on the hanger with the specific ensemble and free up some space in that drawer for support pantyhose.
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