A preliminary note to my male readers: You likely will not care about this post. Come back tomorrow after I’m done reaping the sympathy of my female readers.

Now that it’s just us girls, let’s talk breasts. More specifically, bras.

In the last two weeks, two of my bras have given up the ghost — one had a strap snap and the other’s underwire broke. I’m devastated. Nevermind the fact that the latter bra was my favorite — the only one that looked good under all my light colored tshirts, of course. Now I have to face the dreaded task of … bra shopping. ::Evil organ chords::

Clearly this bra-shopping procrastination is why the bras broke. With the exception of the black bra I bought in England last fall, every bra I own is three-plus years old and gets worn frequently. It was time. It was time a while back. But I just couldn’t face up to its necessity until the bras literally had to start breaking. I’m sure if I put it off any longer the rest will also give up the ghost.

Luckily, I’m heading to Connecticut for a long weekend, where I have access to Marshalls, TJ Maxx, Target, and Kohls. But I know this means I’m going to have to try on nearly every white and off-white and ecru bra in my size in each store.

And why is it too much to ask for them to be supportive and non-weird and comfortable and pretty all at the same time? I’m no longer horrified by the peek-a-boo bra strap; I can see that it’s not really that awful for someone to know you are, in fact, wearing a bra. Call me old-fashioned, though, but if you can see the pattern on my bra through my shirt, you have too much information about me … particularly if we take the previous post into consideration…

And why would people with larger cup sizes want excessive padding? Please. Manufacturers, please understand: we come with our own.

::Grumble::

Okay, I’m done ranting. Just think of me with pity this weekend as I spend several hours under unflattering dressing room lights.