Monday, August 09, 2004

The other day I bought a white, padded bra and felt a certain measure of guilt while the lady at Penney's was ringing me up. I haven't owned a padded bra since high school, and the only reason I owned one then was because it was high school, and I was ashamed of my b-cup, and I thought maybe the extra cotton might make me look a bit more curvaceous in my oxford shirt/polyester skirt Catholic school girl getup. Then I went to college, and at some point in there my chest swelled to a healthy 'C' level, and ever since then, it's been nothing but comfy cotton and satin bras made by Warner's, because dammit, a c-cup is ample boobage.

But then a couple of weeks ago, I got two new shirts, one of which was white, and the other of which was constructed of some sort of gauzy/clingy material. One day I wore the white shirt to work having gotten dressed in the dark, not wanting to wake my unemployed *, sleeping husband. Under the harsh fluorescent light of the ladies' room at work, I realized that blue Warner's bra + white cotton shirt = BAD IDEA, and I spent the rest of the day folding my arms across my chest whilst in the company of other humans in a valiant attempt to silence the "Hey! Look! Kate's wearing a BLUE BRA under that white shirt!" effect I'd created. The next day I wore the gauzy shirt, and the ladies' bathroom mirror once again revealed too much, except in a different way, and I really don't need anyone I work with to have intimate knowledge of my areola.

Hence the padded white bra, which solves the problem on both fronts. I'm wearing it today, and despite my initial wariness about wearing a device that might draw attention to the girls, I'm really digging it. The enhanced shape is a definite perk, but the padding, despite adding a good quarter-inch, is providing this very strange sense of security. I feel very protected in my white padded bra, completely safe against would-be breast attackers. I feel so good that I'm convinced we could solve this whole terrorist threat by covering the country in a giant padded titsling. Get me Tom Ridge! I have all the answers under my shirt.

Oh, yeah, and by the way, folks, I quit my job. Or, at least, I put in notice. Staring August 30, I'm going to work for The Man, which officially makes me a sellout, but The Man wants to give me more money, and money is something I need if we're ever going to realize this dream of becoming homeowners and stepping boldly into the the Middle Class. What the hell happened to me?

*The Unemployed Husband has somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 job interviews in the next two weeks. If you have any to spare, please send good vibes in our general direction.
 
posted by Kate at 10:10 AM link/comments