So GET THIS!
My lovely friend and colleague, from over at Baa Art (Artsy), took me on a field trip this week to this place on the Danforth where a special woman, who we'll refer to here as "The Boob Guru" (TBG), runs a store that I can only describe as Boob Mecca. Bras for freakin' days, people! Most of said bras are a little too, um, fancy pants for my simple taste in boob fashion, but I digress... the point to be taken from this story is, she's a Boob Guru, cool?
So Artsy had recently made a pilgrimage to Boob Mecca and ordered a fancy pants bra and had to go and pick it up, invited me along and it's Boob Mecca so how can I resist? She filled me in on TBG's talents on route and I simply had to have her take a look at my lovely lady lumps and grace me with her wisdom. Obviously TBG's combo of special skills is something along the lines of "fit and sell." She's quite amazing to behold.
To get to the point, before long I find myself half naked in a cozy corner change room with TBG, she's turning me front and back and sizing me up, literally, and then she dashes out for a moment and dashes back in with a couple of fancy pants bras. I can barely contain myself as I take them in my hands and ask, "What size?!"
She's half way out of the room when she turns back to me, smiles and says, "34C."
34C?! 34C?! 34C. Hm.
I look down at The Girls and I'm like, "I feel like I don't even know you anymore."
I've been wearing a consistent, and apparently bad-fitting, 36B for a few years, before that I might have been into the odd 32 or 34, but always B. Always B! And suddenly, with a wink and grin from TBG, I'm a C? Seriously, dropping a bomb like that can really change shit up.
My humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps are a full cup size bigger than they were just a few short days ago. Imagine the possibilities!
People, listen to Oprah, go find yourself a Boob Guru. The Girls deserve it.