Busting out of Victoria

I have a bit of weight to lose. I've never been a rail, I've always been curvy. Or very curvy. I don't look that big to most people. I'm not really that big. My problem is that I have dense bones (no chance of osteoporosis here) and am, ummm, rather top heavy. In a non politically correct way, I have big boobs.

It's a blessing and a curse. Well, actually it's just a curse. My top size is much bigger than my bottom size; hence, I can't wear dresses. Dresses just hang on the bottom in an unflattering way. Those cute little shirts all the tiny girls can wear - I can't. That sucks. I have at least an extra 5 pounds there, which strains my back, makes me top heavy & klutzier, and is just a general nuisance.

I suppose the only upside is that boys don't complain.

Today I went to Victoria's Secret. I don't know why. I saw they had a sale on bras, and I just drifted in. I look at all the bins and am dismayed to not find anything close to my size (huge!). Of course one of those tiny 32B workers comes up to me and asks if she can help. I say it doesn't look they have my size. She takes one look at me and says of course they do. The thing she doesn't realize is that I hide my boobs really well.

I was weak, what can I say? I let her drag me into the back. Let me say that if you are going to be fondled by someone in a backroom, you want it to be a chubby grandma who was seen her fair share of big boobs. You don't want to be fondled by an 18 year old 32B who has a neverending supply of perkiness.

After some fondling, she tells me my size. I don't really believe her because that's a smaller size than I've been told before but whatever. She takes me out to the front, and I find 4 cute bras to try on in my size.

(Just in case I have a hard time remembering my name and my size, she gives me my own personal Victoria's Secret card that has my name and size on it. Aren't I cool with a card with my name on it? And my bra size? I could copy them off and hand them out with my phone number on them.)

Anyway, I try on this cute teal bra. And, well, there's lots of spillage. As in, I have more boob than cup. Way more boob. Cute, perky girl knocks on the door and asks how I'm doing. I show her my dilemma. She backs out, "Let me get you a bigger cup size." She brings back the bigger one, I try it on, same issue. There is such a spillage issue that you cannot tell the difference between the D and DD. And that's as high as they go. So I can't get that cute bra.

I can just barely stuff myself in a not-as-cute bra. I get it just because I want a Victoria's Secret bra, and gosh darn it I'm going to fit into one of them.

Mission accomplished!