It's not like I've never gone on about my body issues, so tonight's installment shouldn't come as any sort of surprise to anyone. Specifically, I'd like to talk about my boobs. As a fat girl, I should have big boobs, but I don't. Every fat girl store out there has big bras for big hooters. Finding the perfect bra has thusly been a real pisser for me. I've stuffed them, added padding, I've worn smaller sizes and then added extenders in the back so that I could still wear them. Inevitably, they poke me, the extra pads slip out, the straps fall down and I spend a great deal of my life tugging and pulling at my bra. All the while, my marble-like boobs rattle around in there mocking me. I even had one bra custom made for me one time. It was the most ridiculous contraption I have ever seen. It was like a harness and you had to lean forward, pull your boobs though and then pull this flap over and hook it. It was kind of like a maternity bra. It was ugly and not boob enhancing at all. Sadly, because I am a big girl, I could never go to all the special stores that sell the pretty bras, or ones that might work for my boob size. So, all these years, I have muddled through in discomfort and distress. Is it any wonder I am Angry Pony? Duh.
Well, today was the dawn of a new time in my life. Today, I decided I was going to Victoria's Secret. While I have not lost a ton of weight yet, I have lost enough, I thought, to go into a "normal people's" store and shop. I was going to give it a try. I wanted to lift and separate, I wanted to have cleavage, I wanted a plunging neck-line...I was going to have the boobs I've always dreamed of. It was going to happen - TODAY.
I called my sister. She is a subject matter expert on boobs. Her's always seem perky and she always shops at Victoria's Secret. She is like a cult follower of VS. We arrived at the mall and headed into the store. It was as if the angels were singing...they were welcoming me. I looked around, my eyes aglow with hope and excitement. I pretended I could not see all the thongs and skinny bitch apparel. I had a purpose. I needed to focus. I sought out the bras that were padded and pretty. I was going to jack these babies up. Finally, after finding three that might work, it was time to head into the dressing room. This was happening.
A nice girl came and let me into the room. She told me to press the button if I needed assistance. The dressing room has a call button? Why? What could go wrong? Was I going to get stuck? Is this for some girl that accidentally puts a bra on her ass thinking it is some sort of garter and gets a strap stuck up her butt? A thong test drive that goes wrong? It's all fun and games until you lose one in your hoo-hoo? I don't know what could happen that would require me to push that button? Anyway, I pulled down my FCD, took off my ugly-ass fat girl bra and unleashed the girls. I put on this pretty white satin bra with a little diamond in the middle. It was precious. It was everything I wanted it to be. It was going to push my boobs up and I was going to be amazing. I put it on. I could hear the music that they play on game shows when someone answers a question wrong. This wasn't going to work. That's okay, I have two others to go. Neither one was impressing me. I was going to need an additional bra for my armpit boobs. This was not attractive. I needed help. Ohhhhh....that is what the button is for. Well, I'm not calling that bra girl in here, I don't want her to see me with armpit boobs! I texted my sister, "I need u." Within seconds I heard her outside the door. "Yesss?" she said. "I need help, this isn't working." She came in the little room and after some discussion, we came to the conclusion that I had the wrong cup size. She brought me this smoky lavender bra with lace on the sides and little diamonds in the middle. I heard the angel music again. It was the most beautiful bra I'd ever seen. My sister helped me get into it. I nestled my boobs into place on top of the cleavage enhancing padding. It was amazing. They were amazing. There I stood, in the dressing room, a real girl! For the first time ever, I was wearing something that "normal" people wear. Something that slutty people wear, something that Tyra Banks and all of her America's Next Top Model girls wear. I wanted to walk out of there and do a runway walk through the store. Do you think they have a wind machine? I need my hair to bounce and blow. At that moment I noticed this skimpy, stretchy pink shirt that is hanging inside the dressing room. It's tiny but says, "one size fits ALL." The sign says to try this shirt on so you can see how amazing you look in your new bra. I said to my sister, "I bet they didn't think a girl like me would come in here...I need to put that shirt on." My sister laughed. We both knew, when I was done, that shirt was never going to be the same again. I pulled it off the hanger, pulled it over my head and down over my enormous hooters. The shirt was like a second skin and it was begging for mercy. We both laughed since I looked like a pork sausage. I showed it mercy and I took it off. Indeed, one size does fit all. Thank you, VS for putting spandex in that shirt. I put it back on the hanger and giggled. I did the next fat girl a favor.
I decided to call it a day at VS. I reluctantly took my little piece of heaven off and put the ugly, misshapen fat girl bra back on so that I could go buy my new best friend. I watched the sales girl wrap my bra in pink tissue paper and put it in the cute white and pink striped bag. I was on a high and was giddy. I bought three tubes of VS lip gloss, too. If my boobs are going to be awesome, then I need shiny lips, too.
I walked out past the PINK line of clothing and stopped to look for a moment. Baby steps, Angry Pony, baby steps. Someday. Today's victory would be enough. It felt good to do something that I felt I would never be able to do. I was finally able to buy more than just the lotion in this store. It might seem dumb to someone that has never struggled with their weight, but today I walked out of the store with something I deem normal. Something an average person could wear. It meant something to me, and really, that is all that counts.
I came home and put my new bra on so that Will could see. He whole-heartedly approves. No shock there. I just sat on the couch looking down at my boobs. They look amazing. I mean, sure, it's half padding, but I don't care. They are amazing, and there are diamonds in my cleavage. I poked them. They are so life-like. Will looked over and was laughing at me. I kept peeking under my shirt. I don't ever want to take this bra off. And then, it hit me, I know what Victoria's Secret is...it's the padding! That has to be the secret! I'll never say mean things about that bitch, Victoria Secret, again. We have finally made peace.
Go in peace, Victoria. Go make me pretty, sparkly, padded bras.
Well, today was the dawn of a new time in my life. Today, I decided I was going to Victoria's Secret. While I have not lost a ton of weight yet, I have lost enough, I thought, to go into a "normal people's" store and shop. I was going to give it a try. I wanted to lift and separate, I wanted to have cleavage, I wanted a plunging neck-line...I was going to have the boobs I've always dreamed of. It was going to happen - TODAY.
I called my sister. She is a subject matter expert on boobs. Her's always seem perky and she always shops at Victoria's Secret. She is like a cult follower of VS. We arrived at the mall and headed into the store. It was as if the angels were singing...they were welcoming me. I looked around, my eyes aglow with hope and excitement. I pretended I could not see all the thongs and skinny bitch apparel. I had a purpose. I needed to focus. I sought out the bras that were padded and pretty. I was going to jack these babies up. Finally, after finding three that might work, it was time to head into the dressing room. This was happening.
A nice girl came and let me into the room. She told me to press the button if I needed assistance. The dressing room has a call button? Why? What could go wrong? Was I going to get stuck? Is this for some girl that accidentally puts a bra on her ass thinking it is some sort of garter and gets a strap stuck up her butt? A thong test drive that goes wrong? It's all fun and games until you lose one in your hoo-hoo? I don't know what could happen that would require me to push that button? Anyway, I pulled down my FCD, took off my ugly-ass fat girl bra and unleashed the girls. I put on this pretty white satin bra with a little diamond in the middle. It was precious. It was everything I wanted it to be. It was going to push my boobs up and I was going to be amazing. I put it on. I could hear the music that they play on game shows when someone answers a question wrong. This wasn't going to work. That's okay, I have two others to go. Neither one was impressing me. I was going to need an additional bra for my armpit boobs. This was not attractive. I needed help. Ohhhhh....that is what the button is for. Well, I'm not calling that bra girl in here, I don't want her to see me with armpit boobs! I texted my sister, "I need u." Within seconds I heard her outside the door. "Yesss?" she said. "I need help, this isn't working." She came in the little room and after some discussion, we came to the conclusion that I had the wrong cup size. She brought me this smoky lavender bra with lace on the sides and little diamonds in the middle. I heard the angel music again. It was the most beautiful bra I'd ever seen. My sister helped me get into it. I nestled my boobs into place on top of the cleavage enhancing padding. It was amazing. They were amazing. There I stood, in the dressing room, a real girl! For the first time ever, I was wearing something that "normal" people wear. Something that slutty people wear, something that Tyra Banks and all of her America's Next Top Model girls wear. I wanted to walk out of there and do a runway walk through the store. Do you think they have a wind machine? I need my hair to bounce and blow. At that moment I noticed this skimpy, stretchy pink shirt that is hanging inside the dressing room. It's tiny but says, "one size fits ALL." The sign says to try this shirt on so you can see how amazing you look in your new bra. I said to my sister, "I bet they didn't think a girl like me would come in here...I need to put that shirt on." My sister laughed. We both knew, when I was done, that shirt was never going to be the same again. I pulled it off the hanger, pulled it over my head and down over my enormous hooters. The shirt was like a second skin and it was begging for mercy. We both laughed since I looked like a pork sausage. I showed it mercy and I took it off. Indeed, one size does fit all. Thank you, VS for putting spandex in that shirt. I put it back on the hanger and giggled. I did the next fat girl a favor.
I decided to call it a day at VS. I reluctantly took my little piece of heaven off and put the ugly, misshapen fat girl bra back on so that I could go buy my new best friend. I watched the sales girl wrap my bra in pink tissue paper and put it in the cute white and pink striped bag. I was on a high and was giddy. I bought three tubes of VS lip gloss, too. If my boobs are going to be awesome, then I need shiny lips, too.
I walked out past the PINK line of clothing and stopped to look for a moment. Baby steps, Angry Pony, baby steps. Someday. Today's victory would be enough. It felt good to do something that I felt I would never be able to do. I was finally able to buy more than just the lotion in this store. It might seem dumb to someone that has never struggled with their weight, but today I walked out of the store with something I deem normal. Something an average person could wear. It meant something to me, and really, that is all that counts.
I came home and put my new bra on so that Will could see. He whole-heartedly approves. No shock there. I just sat on the couch looking down at my boobs. They look amazing. I mean, sure, it's half padding, but I don't care. They are amazing, and there are diamonds in my cleavage. I poked them. They are so life-like. Will looked over and was laughing at me. I kept peeking under my shirt. I don't ever want to take this bra off. And then, it hit me, I know what Victoria's Secret is...it's the padding! That has to be the secret! I'll never say mean things about that bitch, Victoria Secret, again. We have finally made peace.
Go in peace, Victoria. Go make me pretty, sparkly, padded bras.
This made me smile :) Bless you!
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