The Alpha Blonde


This article was written on 08 Apr 2013, and is filled under Uncategorized.

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My womanbody


I had to buy a new bra.  I have four, one is dingy white and looks like it’s been worn nonstop for 5 years with underwire that feels like wrought iron.  Another is hot pink and way too perky and round. The third is what I call my “big girl boobs”- a bra that takes me from a B-cup to a D in no time and is not actually practical at all. Finally, I have a black one with a wire poking out- my favorite. Once that wire popped out I knew I wouldn’t be able to last much longer without a trip to good old Victoria’s Secret. Problem is I know I’ve expanded a bit since my last braventure- a time when roller derby and, ugh, running were still part of my schedule let alone lexicon. I’ve walked in and out of the store 4 times each time knowing I won’t be able to simply stroll in, grab a bra in a previous size and walk out without impending returns.

So today I went in, I banished Chuck to the mall because no one wants someone following them around when they’re touching bras. I almost didn’t make it and panicked but then I saw a friend of mine who works there and we shot the shit for a few minutes to take the edge off.  Then I went in.  I got measured.  My cup size went from Grande to Trenta, folks.

Even at 200 lbs when I was in my mid-twenties I was still a high-A, low-B cup.  I’ve hovered within the same 10 lbs for the last two years (admittedly at the high side of the 170’s as I pen this) and I’m pretty sure that I’m settling into what I’ve deemed my “Womanbody”- the next phase, the post-thirty body.  I’ll probably fluctuate up and down, but the way the weight has distributed itself this time is different.  Weirder. I’m now the bewildered owner of a D-cup- it’s like I’m a host body for an alien life form. No wonder I’ve looked ridiculous up top lately, my bra has been holding back the next Stephanie Meyer novel turned movie.

I spent the better part of the evening dealing with this.  It’s taken some wine, some chocolate and telling the guy at the AT&T store I was going to throw myself on the ground and tantrum if I couldn’t get an iPhone today. (I couldn’t. I transferred the blame to my mother.) But then I thought about it, my mom’s boobs came in later- like she was tiiii-ny and then in her thirties BAM- boobs. I can only ever remember her with boobs.  It only makes sense that I’m rounding out.  It weirdly took the pressure off of the fact that none of my clothes seem to fit right anymore, despite not having gone up or down a size at all.  This is where my body is taking me.  Gone are the days of Forever 21 and juniors, now I’m shopping in places with even numbered sizes.  It’s weird. No seriously, this blog is freaking me out.  I’m going in to work with pink hair tomorrow because of it.  Holy shit I’m 30 and I’m a 36 D.  Needless to say, I bought a new pink, a white and a black bra.  I’m throwing out the big girl boobs, looks like I’m already there.

One Comment

  1. […] of me!  But seriously, all silliness aside, The Washer Woman is helping me come to terms with my womanbody and all of the supple roundness that that entails. It makes me just uncomfortable enough to […]

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