“I lost the weight, but now I’m just shaped…differently.”
I was prepared for an even-more jiggly tummy. It’s actually all I’ve ever known, so I never mourned the loss of a flat surface– like I’ve never been sad about not being able to jump in the horse and buggy to get some leeches stuck to me at the barber. No one ever told me the parts that might be shaped differently might actually be the ones that a baby was never inside.
I am going to Vegas this weekend. In preparation, I tried on some dresses in my closet to see what fits again. It turns out, my arms are not the same as they were before. And to add insult to insecurity, armpit chub was spilling out the side of my brand new fancy-pants-custom-fitted-by-a-highly-trained-booby-expert bra.
I returned to Nordstrom, sausage-armed with the knowledge that this is the result of a poor fit. The saleslady was skeptical. “Let me see it on you,” she said. It sounded like a dare. I’ll see you a faulty Wacoal minimizer and raise you a 34D-or-DD.
“It’s not the bra,” she said. “It fits just fine. No bra will fix that. It’s not the bra, it’s you.”
If Oprah Winfrey has taught our world one thing, it’s to live your best life. If she’s taught us two things, it’s that the right bra can fix everything. There is no such thing as “it’s you,” and to tell a topless woman toting a Snap-N-Go stroller in a poorly lit dressing room anything differently is criminal.
So I tried on six more. And none of them were any different. I teared up. I started to believe her. And then I found out that Spanx upped their sizes and came out with this. And Zappos.com sells it, which means I could get it the next day. Although the straps are not adjustable, which is just plain nonsensical, my armpit rolls are gone. Take that, mean saleslady.
Peace has been restored throughout the land.