Okay, disclaimer: I have never run a marathon. Probably buying a bra is much easier. I liken the experience to running a marathon because it is a feat of endurance and patience, and sometimes you think you’re not going to make it/find a bra.
I tried on eleven bras today. Eleven that I remember, anyway – there might have been a couple extra I’ve forgotten. Since Cushing’s, my boobs have grown bigger and become saggier, which actually makes it kind of difficult to find a bra that fits. Added to that is that I don’t want to just own bras that will cover my boobs and not squeeze me to the point of suffocation; I want to own bras that make my boobs look amazing. Even if I am the only person who sees them, I still want them to look awesome – Cleavage Man deserves a good home.
Side note: I have often thought it would be cool to be a miniature person living in someone’s cleavage. You’d be surrounded by lovely padding and have a great view of the world. I have occasionally drawn little stick figures in my cleavage, and in the last appearance of Cleavage Man, he was wearing a top hat and a monocle. Who ever said I’m not classy?
Anyway. So, I tried on about eleven bras, probably driving the salesperson nuts, and have come away with a bra that on its own doesn’t look spectacular (no lace or pretty colours or exciting patterns), but one that should make Cleavage Man pretty happy, should he ever make another appearance.
And speaking of marathons, the Mother’s Day run is tomorrow. I am freaking out slightly because I am fairly certain that I am not fit enough to run 8km. Why did I ever think this would be a good idea?! I hope I don’t die.