A Red Letter Day

Today I have discarded the scarlet A which has been emblazon upon my chest for the last 20 years. The shame, the humiliation, the sniggers in the locker room, being told “Hey buddy, you dropped your wallet.” No, more. Today I am putting away that scarlet A, and I am moving up to a B.

This morning, upon the recommendation of a number of theater-type people I know, I went to a shop called Bra Tenders. Yes, I went bra shopping. (To those of you for whom this is too much information, you can stop reading now, and my feelings won’t be hurt. Nothing can hurt my newly inflated feelings today!) I was in search of a strapless bra which, when I put it on under something slinky and tight (which I wear so often, you know) does not scream out “Hello, I am a bra on a woman with teeny tiny breasts who for some reason thinks she should actually wear a bra today.”

So I went into this place (after signing in at the front desk, being buzzed in at the door, and then told it is by appointment only. Woops! They helped me anyway), and told them what I was looking for. The woman eyeballed me and stated that I am a 34 B. B? B??! Really truly and seriously? Woo hoo! I feel like I just got a promotion (which I guess I did, in a way). It’s probably a fluke. I’m probably just having a good day today. (I did briefly wonder if I might be pregnant, but then remembered that, unless I am carrying the next incarnation of the Messiah, that just can’t be.) I probably ate too much hormone-injected chicken or eggs recently. But whatever the cause, I’m going with it while I can!

Truth be told, the bra that ended up working the best for me was an A cup, but she told me that I’m a large A or small B. Woo hoo, again! She then asked if I needed any ‘everyday’ bras, and I smiled and said that I really don’t wear them. I don’t need to. Although now that I’m a B cup, maybe I should.