My serious thing for shoes, silenced since I no longer need so many pairs given a life of leisure in the desert, has morphed into a bra fetish. It’s not that I have to wear a bra according to my plastic surgeon, but I gotta tell ya, silicone is heavy! Also, I want the implants to stay in place medially and laterally. Nothing like developing a uni-boob (did that during the expansion process) or having one of these drop into my armpit… Finally, at this point post-op, I am more comfortable having the implants supported by underwires. If am going to wear a bra, why not have one (many) that are beautiful? Just ignore the cost issue.
I went back to the delightful lingerie store where I was first professionally fitted after I lost about 100 pounds. (If you have never had a professional fit, do it! Nordstrom’s is great if you live in a large city.) The same woman who miraculously stuffed my former sagging boobs into glorious bras looked at my card – eek, they keep records – and before I had a chance to tell my story she pointedly said, “Those are not the same breasts.” No ma’m, they certainly are not breasts at all. After a brief conversation where she revealed that she had breast cancer also, it was back to bidness. Whipping out the tape measure, she said I was 36-38 C+. Great. Just like my feet – between sizes. And, like my feet, one is larger than the other. (The girls are still settling in, but I was itching to get out of the compression bras.) The style I specifically wanted was not in stock. No matter, I left with 2 not-so-expensive bras that have molding, not really padding. Here’s something you might not know. After your boobs get lopped off, there is no implant that will fill out the tips of a bra. (We will discuss nipples at a later date – no I don’t have mine any more.) So, molded bras give a nice appearance and help hide the wrinkles and bubbles lurking under my skin. Remember, the girls are still moving in! The saleswoman, call her Brabara, brought out a “sports bra” at the last moment. The only thing sporty was the fabric and the lack of underwire. Oh, and of course the cost was much more. Put it in the bag.
It only took 2 days to realize that I needed at least 3 underwires. One to wear; one to sleep in (yes, it
hurts is uncomfortable even sleeping without a bra); and one to be in the wash – hand wash, drip dry. Having already freaked out my sweetie by the number of bras since my mastectomy, I sneaked into a department store that had the style that I wanted originally, careful to leave our joint credit card at home. The store was having a “fit event” with professional fitters everywhere and specializing in the brand I was going after. AND, you guessed it, everyone was in pink. At least the event identified the recipient and amount of the proceeds. I shoved down my revulsion to PinkOctober and put myself in the hands of someone who looked way too young. Whipping out her tape measure, she told me I was a 36 DD. Now, I know what a DD looks like, and it ain’t me. She told me to trust her about the size for this particular bra. Dam if she wasn’t right – after about 10 different styles. I tried a D and the underwires hit my implants. I left with 3 even more expensive bras.
Moral of the story. Do not buy bras without trying them on, preferably with a fitter. Brabara said in one style (same size, same company) the black bras were a band size smaller than the other colors! Turns out bras are like all clothing. Size does not matter. Fit does.