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08/13/2005
Broad where a broad should be bra'd
I've been away for the last couple of days visiting my good friend T. We drank a great deal of wine, we shoveled down embarrassing quantities of pork-free mousse truffée and saffron-spiked risotto, and we did what you can do only with the closest, most honest of girlfriends: we shopped for bras.
Months after I'd stopped lactating, I was still wearing the bras I'd bought while pumping. I don't mean the nursing bras. No, those I've collected in a tidy pile, awaiting the beginning of leaf-burning season. I predict the stubborn smears of lanolin will serve as a crackerjack accelerant, and I look forward to the merriest of blazes. Those bras, God damn their every straining hook, have been out of commission since before my final pump.
I bought the ones I'm referring to for those days when I needed to feel normal for a short while, when I'd venture out for a few hours without Charlie or the pump, sporting a smooth profile unbroken by the ugly hemispheric seam of the nursing bras. They are reasonably plain with a smooth cup and underwires, the kind of bra I might have bought in any case. But because of the staggering load the cups were required to carry, the center of the bra came up to the hollow of my throat — a veritable turtleneck of a bra. And because that center is where the wires converge, every time I bent my neck, I risked catastrophic tracheotomy-by-undergarment. (The manufacturer, mincing no words, has christened it an Ultra Full Figure bra, with rigid straps, a sturdy inner sling, and no padding; the photograph here is entirely misleading because it shows the bra on a woman whose bosom measures a modest 34B, and because the cups are much smaller overall, the center support does not encroach even marginally on her jugular.)
Not only were they ugly and overly modest, so much so that they practically came emblazoned with the Taliban Seal of Grudging We-Probably-Won't-Have-You-Stoned-Today Approval, and not only were they potentially lethal in the wrong hands or on the wrong rack, they were very obviously the wrong size. I could gather a great handful of slack fabric where strap met cup. While I can unfortunately also do that with my skin, a quick nip into the lingerie department at Nordstrom cannot fix that particular problem. But I could buy a better bra, so off T. and I did go.
A digression, if you will: because I am, you know, old school, I used to buy my bras at Orchard Corset on the Lower East Side. Here is how it would go:
- Enter grubby-looking storefront.
- Before the door has closed behind you, get eyeballed by a large Hasid, who subsequently declares, "Wrong size."
- Wait no longer than a nanosecond before he's plundered the cubbyholes behind the counter, located an array of sturdy-looking apparatuses for you to try on, and handed them over without lifting his eyes from his book.
- Admire posters on the wall featuring undergarments from a bygone era — the pointy-breasted models harken back to the Cuban missile crisis both temporally and geometrically.
- Proceed hastily to the stockroom, where the proprietor's wife wrestles your rack into submission.
- Fall in love with new bras, new shape, new you, sparing a moment to wonder at the store owner's laser-like accuracy.
- Pay 50% off retail price.
- Repeat at two-year intervals.
In the absence of an old-world bra shop, I've found any Nordstrom to be a reasonable substitute. They carry my preferred brand, and I've never been steered wrong by their saleswomen and their pink paper measuring tapes. But today was a little different.
Two things happened when I took off my bra in the fitting room. First, upon the baring of my breasts, Charlie, who'd been sitting cooperatively in his stroller, began to shift and fuss. I guess he does remember those early days.
Second, the fitter sighed, eyed my cast-off bra, then glanced at my breasts, and groaned in her heavy Eastern European accent, "What happened?"
You know, I ask myself that all the time. What the fuck happened, indeed.
T. then came in with a handful of hangers and gave her expert opinion as I put on bra after bra. "Four boobs," T. would say succinctly when I tried on one that divided each breast into two separate wobbly mounds of flesh. "Back fat," she'd warn, when I tightly battened down the hatches on another. And when I tried on a sheer lace demi-cup model, the kind I desperately wish I could still wear without hilarity ensuing, she was kind enough not to hoot aloud, restricting herself to gentle counsel: "You know, they may make those in our size...but they're not," she advised, "for us."
No. No, they are not.
The saleswoman did her best to convince me that I needed a significantly smaller size, but I, my back fat, and my rib cage, which I capriciously allow to expand now and then to accommodate my lungs during respiration, were not fooled. Instead, I purchased three new Wacoals that are two band sizes and one cup size smaller. I am not back to my pre-pregnancy size, but then I doubt I ever will be. I don't like the look of my new shape or the feel of the stretch marks as I run my hands over my skin, but I accord these changes the strange combination of pride and resignation that I feel when I consider other scars I've honorably earned. My breasts have changed for good — or if not for good, forever.
But as far as my bras go, I am closer to normal than I've been in a year and a half: elegantly holstered, impeccably hoisted, and in no immediate danger of being stabbed in the throat by my underpinnings.
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I'm in the same boat and just got my new Wacoals two months ago. I'm still in love with them. My ginormous breasts are so much more comfortable now that the Brooklyn Bridge is no longer holding them up
Do you know I've been dreaming of bra shopping? I know my boobs are going to be pathetic ghosts of their previous selves once Hannah is weaned, but I still long for a bra that does something more than just hold bra pads in place - something that won't stick out the top, sides and occassionally, bottom of my shirts.
Congratulations on a step toward normal... or whatever normal is now going to be.
oops. that was me.
Now I'm scared. Not by yours or anyone else's breasts, no matter what shape or size...but as I am now 6 months pg, what will happen to mine? What will they look like a year from now? I was rather fine with them before I got pg...
:/
LORD! Normal bras....I WISH! Mine have become too big for nice, pretty bras...Instead I get the look and the same "just because it's your size.." speech...
What I wouldn't give to be flatchested..
A new bra. It's so simple. A new bra might change my entire perspective. Thanks for the idea, Julie.
(And, you're right. They'll never be the same. But you get used to it.)
~CA~
this post would be far more hilarious were it posted by paul
I have to say, I had no idea - none! - that Hasidim were so gifted in the art of the brassiere. Wowzers.
Congratulations on the trussing-up of the bust, it's quite an accomplishment. I remember taking my (flatter-chested) friend with me once, and she almost started crying when she realized what we large-boobied ladies go through for support.
There is one -- one! -- brand/type of bra that fits me the way I like, is not underwire, and doesnt cost $234598475. I live in fear of the company discontinuing it b/c I wear them out so fast that I tend to buy them twice a year (and I buy at least four at a time, too). My husband, of course, LOVES my boobs (and loves them in new, perky-supporting bras), but I also greatly fear what will happen when we decide to have a kid. Will I be suffocated by breasticles covering my face when I lay down to sleep? And the sagging after weaning..? Im only 25 and there is already mad saggage. I told dh that after the last bio kid there WILL be a reduction :D
I love a good round of bra blogging. I'm so glad you bought Wacoals—otherwise I would have browbeaten you into seeking them out. (Bitch Ph.D. is my mentor in Wacoalism.) Me, I was wearing a 38C after childbirth, up from a pre-pregnancy 36C. Dude, I was so far off from having the right size. Turns out a 36DD Wacoal fits nearly perfectly—totally not a C, nope. Why didn't someone tell me sooner?
I just was admitting to my mother today that I only have two wearable nursing bras (fucking Wacoal discontinued the only good one and I refuse to buy a lesser one). Am currently wearing a 32DDD, which is the stupidest size ever. God, I can't WAIT to wear real bras again. But never mind that - you are so very funny with the Honey Bun reference in your title. I almost sang it aloud, because I am that goobery.
I have yet to buy a new bra. I am still nursing E (10.5 mo) but somehow, I have shrunk down past my prepregnancy size. What the...?!
Anyways, I love the Wacoals Good choice. Hopefully I will be able to get a new pretty bra soon. One that doesn't have 5 inch straps.
I was just thinking today about how desperately I need new bras. I am most assuredly *not* impeccably hoisted.
My sis and I used to talk about starting a bra company called All or Nothing to give the girls at the ends of the bell curve something pretty and comfy to wear. Ah but for lack of capital what might have been...
I am still trying to figure out what a Hasid was doing working in a bra store?
I just bought new bras myself in the past month. I weaned the youngest, and I needed new bras; no, strike that, I WANTED new bras that had no hooks or flaps. 38J, and there isn't a white one among them. Black and Pink, thank you very much.
New bras will go a long way towards making you look even better. Congrats!
For the record, my favorite moment:
At one point, I figured we'd all had enough talk of Julie's bounteous rack. It was time for documentation. So, when she wasn't looking, I whipped out my cell phone, got it into camera mode, and called her name. I had every intention of putting a black box across her eyes a la Glamour magazine's DON'T column and putting the shot up for all the world to see.
But Julie is, you know, faster than a speeding bullet and, before I could even click the button, she'd waved her hand in front of my lens and shouted "WHORE!" at the top of her lungs.
Between the crying baby, the cursing, and the raucous laughter, in the first dressing room on the right, the circus had come to town, indeed.
What happened? One too many fitting attendants asked me "what happened" and I got into a knife fight.
You NEVER ask what happened when looking at someone's boobs. That's just common knowledge.
The post-lactating visit to Nordstroms to purchase the Wacoals should really be in the instruction manual, don't you think?
Wait, there is no instruction manual....
Me too! Me too! I LOVE Orchard Corset. Until I was fitted there, I had no idea what I was missing. Ralph’s mother wrestled my rack in after she handed me the most-generic paper towel and suggested that I should wipe myself first. I hope it wasn't because I looked gross, but rather that it was one of those close to 100° days. I originally found the store through Daily Candy.Â
For those of you that are pregnant or nursing The Upper Breast Side is the place to be fitted. I was a 38F and there was NO WAY the maternity-store nursing bras were helping me out at all. I was amazed that the store actually had a fitter on site and wireless nursing bras that were supportive and comfortable.
As far as the Chasid in the lingerie business, you all should know “business is business.”
Ummm... if the girl in that "full figure bra" picture is considered full figured, then what are the other 90% of women in the world? Whale figured?
So...do we get to see photos of you in your new bras? ;)
I always find your blog a great read and this si no different.
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Oh I dread that visit. All of the bras I have been wearing for the past few years are gross. Since my boobs have been stretched constantly for the past 4 years by pregnancy, nursing, then repeat they are going to be totally limp and disgusting when I finish. Which should be within the month. Poor boobs.
just went shopping with my sister for bras. what a trauma!
i also have had much luck at orchard corset...i don't think they're ever wrong.
My Dad once said of my Mother's breasts:
"She used to have knockout breasts--now all she has are the skins they came in".
And he wonders WHY she divorced him?? LOL
Nothing quite as depressing as going into Motherhood Maternity and having to special order a nursing bra because you've grown out of the normal size limit. *sigh* At least hubby approves.
Wonderful post!
In these parts, when I need uplifting I go to some locals genteelly billed as Corsetieres: they are for the most part elderly Italian women who do alterations on the spot. It is REMARKABLE what a difference the right bra makes. It's hard to go back to, ahem, off-the-rack....
I was a nice perky B36. Now after a year of breastfeeding I'm a -A.
I don't think they make -A bras. ;)
I will take a photo of my gorgeous and perky boobs and send it to Paul. He told me he prefers mine any way.
Ah, Tertia, that was good. It gave my mouthful of iced tea a good snort and spit spray over my keyboard. Many thanks.
We have a small business in our area that services women who are breastfeeding or have had breast cancer. I know, what a combination! Anyhow, I love shopping there because there is someone caring to help make sure the bra fits properly. I always feel a bit unsure of myself in department stores. And I hate Victoria's, where the little beanpole bitches told me that don't make those pretty bras in my size. Totally identified with your post, sister. Just hang in there!
When I first started nursing, I was huge - I'm never huge unless I nurse. After a couple of months, my body got used to the milk and I started to shrink. When Carley weaned herself...I was almost flat...meaning that the skin that had adjusted itself to huge was now hanging against my body flat...not pretty.
I always wondered why women got boob jobs. Now I know. And while I won't be one of those women, I do agree with your statement...they are a badge that I learn to live with - just like all the scars on my belly and arms from the needles. :)
Ever since i had a miscarriage last fall, I haven't been able to find a comfortable bra. Have no idea what one thing has to do with the next. But I am SO going to Orchard Corset and The Upper Breast Side just as soon as the weather cools down!
La Mystere. It's the only way to go, especially if you have big ta tas. They're expensive, but it's like a little man is walking behind you holding one boob in each hand. They practically float, I'm telling you.
Whoops, that was me. Must be the computer's fault. Couldn't possibly be me. My boobs are ar too perky in their La Mystere bra.
You know, my sluttiest bra is a Le Mystère! I like that little man theory.
I just went to Nordi's twice. the first time they measured me until all my skin flopped over the measuring tape and declared me a 32 F!!!!!!!!!! I bought the damn bra, wore it for 10 minutes, nearly passed out and dislocated a rib (I wish I was kidding!) I went to a different Nordi's and told the new lady my tale of woe and she nearly sold me something that fit, but was itchy. Being well endowed ain't all it's cracked up to be.
Orchard Corset! That man is solely responsible for the position and pert of my wedding-dress clad boobs in two weeks. However, I found him so disgusting, after going once, I just ordered the same from HerRoom for the same price and no manhandling.
Okay, I don't want to scare you, but life after nursing a baby or two means that your rack will never be the same. Somedays I look down and wonder, "Who'se Puppies are these?" In my dreams mine are still those small perky firm things of my youth. Oh well, I have given life and nurtured it. And I never let my kids forget what I gave up "for them!"
Having never been well-endowed to start with, I loved my pregnancy and nursing chest with #1. Was somewhat sad to see it go when I weaned around 13 months, but now that I'm knocked up again, they're back with a vengance. The girls kept distrating me when I tried to read the newspaper yesterday. I kept thinking, "These are not my breasts! Whose are these?" Not used to having to read over them at the bottom of the page.
One advantage I found to the post breastfeeding saggage is that they can now be hoisted into a fine shape provided I find the proper hoist. Lacking a proper fitting person, I resort to trial and error.I never expect to take less that several hours when bra shopping, and I tend to take one of every shape and size into the fitting room for marathon bra hunts.
I had a similar experience bra shopping old school-style in Skokie, at a store run by retired women with the biggest hair I've ever seen (and I've spent time in the South). I came in, and the woman behind the counter said (no hello or anything), "Open your coat. What size are you?" I did as I was bid, and told her my size. She looked at my chest and said, "I don't think so." Then she rummaged around behind the counter and found the best-fitting bra I'd had in a long time. Now I, too need to go to Nordstrom and get refitted (insert sigh of despair)...
I have yet to make that trip to the store for the after baby/after boob juice bras. I don't fill a single bra at the top anymore and those from before I was pg poke me in the armpit as well. Everything has sunk to where is should never have sunk. I must have 30 bras with all of the cute ones I had before I was pg, the bigger ones I had to wear while I was pg, the even bigger ones I wore while nursing, and the slightly smaller ones - though equally supportive - I wore during the last few months of nursing and pumping. It is so frustrating to go to that drawer everyday and try to decide what level of uncomfortable I am willing to be for the day. Does Victoria's Secret have a lottery? I'd love to win some new bras, or maybe some new boobs.
I would be more impressed by your rack woes, if there weren't some obnoxious chick in this pregnancy board I go to who likes to broadcast to the world how she's 5'1" and has 44G boobs.
44G. That still stuns me.
44G!!!!! She eats underwire for breakfast, apparently. And she claimed she did not know of the existence of Wacoal.
It would be nice if this particular woman were one-tenth as funny as you though.
I, on the other hand, went to Nordstrom post nursing two babies, and they could not help me because my breasts are now too small, yes, too small, I say, for any of their bras. "Sorry, we can't help you," were indeed their very words. At Nordstrom, the ultimate in helpful lingerie departments! There is no hope.
I had to watch South Pacific last night, thanks to you. Awesome reference!
Any recommendations for stores like Orchard Corset for those of us out in L.A.?
I am now more scared than I ever have been about having kids. You see, I am 20, and I wear a 34 H. Yes, that's A B C D DD DDD F G H! I am also 5'1. An odd picture, indeed. I've been considering getting a reduction (I outgrew anything remotely close to sexy or even un-matronly by age 16) for about a year now, and I believe I will. I can't imagine being past an H. It is simply unfathomable.
I went through the whole bra-shopping hell a few weeks ago, so I'm feeling the love here. I was a 40F pre-pregnancy, and now I'm around 16 weeks, so my old bras became laughably inadequate. As I said to some friends, the boob fairy visited me during puberty, I don't need another visit! And I'm told it will only get worse when my milk comes in. I found a great bra shop that's local to me, though, so my shopping dilemma was finally solved. I tried Nordstrom's but saw NOTHING on the rack in my size and couldn't pay $55-60 for ONE bra anyway. Pfeh, I say. Love my little independent bra shop, I do.
That is interesting indeed, thank you for the share.