Way Too Much Info

It’s been an exciting few days with the inauguration ceremony and activities as well as Martin Luther King holiday. It’s also been an emotional few days. I actually was caught crying in the mall on Monday afternoon. Yes, there I was, outside the Lego store sitting on a bench in pregnant glory and a lady seeing me wiping away tears, asked me if I was okay.

Yes, I just miss my guy.

And I’m just really tired.

And I’m just hormonal.

But something wonderful did happen on Monday at the mall. And this is where it really becomes TMI–too much information. So if intimate stuff isn’t your thing, stop reading for today. Because I’m going to get personal, and it’s not pretty.

I finally bought some new bras. Yes, that’s the big wonderful news, and trust me, I needed something big and wonderful for my new boobs.  I am not, nor have I ever been, big on top. A practical 34B, I consider myself not necessarily sleek, but relatively streamlined. Traditionally they don’t get in the way. I don’t need special bras or straps or gear to control them.  When working out a sports bra is more than adequate and I forget they’re there. And this is how I’ve lived twenty plus years of my adult life.  Ignoring the boobs and yet grateful I have something.

But that’s all changed. The boobs have changed. And stuffing what I’ve now got into 34B bras or even old 36C’s (leftover bras from after the last pregnancy) had become unbearable.  The underwires.  The enormous cleavage. The pale enormous cleavage. The stuff spilling from the sides (more boob, I’m guessing).  The straps that dug into my shoulders. The hooks that barely closed. I endured the misery for months but on the flight to and from Texas I almost went mad.  I was so so so uncomfortable.  I could barely sit still. Could barely think about anything but the mashed, smashed mammary glands that hurt all the time.

So I dragged boys to the mall before the movie Monday to make a visit to Victoria Secret. I didn’t go there because I wanted pretty lingerie. I went there because it was close to Game Stop and I prayed I could get in and out fast.

The pert young saleswoman saw me with a handful of new 36C’s and said I should probably be measured before I tried anything on. She whipped out her tape, measured the fullest part of me (above the belly) and with a smile pronounced me 38D.



I am not a 38D. There’s no way I can be a 38D. But it’s what fit and yes, it’s what I bought, and yes, I know they’ll go away later and hopefully shrink back to something more… well, me.

But in the meantime, I’ve this body that is so strange to me (was I really this big with the other pregnancies?). And while I can’t remember the bra size in the past, I do remember one thing—I make a lot of milk.  In the old days I could have been employed as a wet nurse. The boys used to have to latch on good and tight because once the milk let down, there was enough to feed a whole nursery. On the plus side, Baby Mac isn’t going to go hungry.

So I’ll count my blessings, all blessings, especially the blessing of  four new wireless bras in assorted colors. Wires are fine for telephone poles and electrical boxes, but on my chest right now? Heck no.

In the spirit of change, and in the celebration of new purchases, I’m giving away another one of my fun Hawaii prize packages which includes a signed copy of Flirting with Forty, a Hawaii 2009 calendar, a Hawaii Starbucks drink mug, and a Hawaii Starbucks drink card, plus lots of other JP goodies.   To enter, just post a comment and tell me about a purchase you’ve just made, or a purchase you should make but haven’t yet and you’re in! The contest will close Friday night and I’ll announce the winner Saturday morning. I’ll post the winner’s name in the comments below, and do remember to check back to see who won because three of my last seven winners never emailed me to collect their prize!!

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