A Really Good Reason to Have a Great Fitting Bra

Ladies, do you remember getting your first bra?

Was it a rite of passage for you? It was for me! Next to getting your period, this is what happens when you "become a woman!" (All myths made up by parents to make you think tampons, pads, and bras are something to look forward to - crowning achievements - because the real truth about puberty really stinks).

Anyway, my great grandmother took me to the local Ladies Wear shop in my little New England home town and had me fitted for my very first bra by the owner of the shop herself. (Small town. No other shops to go to back then, and this is how we did it).

Anyway, that was 1975. I was, sadly, a mere 11 years old. An "early bloomer." BLECCCHHHH.

Now, when you are a kid, (at least when I was a kid "back in the day"), bras were required undergarments. I thought it was "neat" to have a bra with a little bow sewed on between the cups - they still do that. Is that so someone can look and say, "Wow, what a cute miniature bow you have between your bra cups" in gym class? Just wondering. Anyway, that was "fancy" to me, and made me feel oh-so-very-grown-up. (Duh. What an eejit I was).

Little did I know back then that if you ended up being a "well-endowed" bra-user, that the more well-endowed you are, the more expensive the bras get. No one ever tells you that stuff. (Isn't it funny that now the other bigger items in life now cost less - think BIG cell phones vs. micro-mini phones, for one - but no matter what happens, the bigger the bra, the more dollars you spend?) Unfair stuff. Really.

I am really digressing now, because I need to talk about how important it is - no matter what your measurements are - that you wear a great-fitting bra.

Oprah does whole shows about this subject; that's how important well-fitted bras are!

(And by the way, thanks, Oprah! Were it not for that one show where you measured half the world for bras, I wouldn't have been re-measured approximately 30 years after my first bra fitting and realized that I, like most women who don't give a rat's a** are wearing the WRONG bra!) What a revelation! After that show, I went right to Victoria's Secret (let's face it, that lovely lady that fit me in 1975 has long since passed away and I live 3000 miles away from that store which is now a bar anyway), my bras are MUCH MORE EXPENSIVE but they REALLY FIT WELL! And by jove, I'm "perky" once again, like I was for five minutes back when I was age 13! (After that, straight down to my knees. Genetics).

Seriously, though, Oprah, thanks.

But, I digress again.

I will get to the point.

I recently lost a lot of weight. It was a much-needed weight loss, but sadly, I take no credit for hard work or exercise getting me there. I am not here to tell you about my great diet secrets, or what-have-you. I blame stress, which caused my severe lack of eating, which really hindered my severe addiction to chocolate. (Oh, don't say, "Jeez, when I get stressed, I eat. You are SO lucky!") Not so! Here's how it goes for me: I get depressed, I open my mouth, insert anything digestable, and then Poof! I become an Oompa Loompa. Automatic.

Stress, however, does the opposite.

My stomach shuts down, and the only thing that goes in my mouth is air and some coffee.

Instant anorexia, minus the vomiting. (Oh, and this is in no way a commentary on the disease of anorexia, which I know is a very serious illness. This is my reaction to stress in relation to my "norm." So as not to offend, I will refer to it from hereon in as "Maurexia: " Maureen's inability to eat due to stress.")

What in the heck does this have to do with bras?

Because when I was an Oompa Loompa and I did diet, I only ever lost weight in my face. Never in my boobs.

With Maurexia, my boobs were the first to go.

Did I relish the moment? Did I go shopping and live in the glory of being smaller than I was in high school? No! I was too stressed. Only when my pants started to fall off and hang around my knees, I bought new jeans. When I mowed the lawn one day with a size Large t-shirt but kept having to pull my shirt up to my neck because the "shoulder" of the shirt was on my elbow exposing my bra and cup, I bought smaller shirts. But bras? Why? Heck, who'd see them but me anyway? They are expensive, and a pain to find one that fits good, looks good, etc. (Unless, let's face it, you WANT to go to Victoria's Secret every month and buy four good-fitting bras for $50 a piece.) I'd love to have the $$ to do it, but I don't. (God love ya, Victoria for fitting this idiot, but I can't afford to go in there every time I have Maurexia. Wish I could.)

An ill fitting bra manifests itself in several ways. First, maybe your straps are loose and keep falling down to your elbow; second, the band is loose and your bra keeps "moving up" or, third, your cups get too big for the breasts inside.

That's what happened to me. All three.

Why did it finally matter? What finally convinced me that having a really great-fitting bra is a good thing?

It's simple.

I will share it with you now.

A spider.

I mowed my lawn one evening a few weeks ago. Size large shirt, (too big, but it is my one and only designated "lawn mowing shirt" and heck, I was in the BACK yard, not the front so no one could see.)

Anyhoo, proud of my accomplishment of lawn mowing, the kids and I went in the house to have dinner. (Marvy Mommy had the pork chops ready to go, and I had but to wash up and serve. Just like Carol Brady, minus Alice and minus the lawn mower!)

Well, once inside, I got a severe burning sensation on my right breast.

I thought, "Hmmm, did I bang my breast on the handle of the mower while putting it away?"

Answer: Nope.

Up I went, kids in tow, burning slowly dissipating.

I go wash my hands and face. Suddenly, it's like someone lit a match to my breast again.

I looked.

Nothing there.

I'm going nuts. This Maurexia is depleting my brain cells.

Serve dinner to kids with a smile.

Sit down.

Suddenly, it's as if I have fire ants in my bra. I say, "Kids, Mommy's got a little issue. Excuse me, I'll be right back!"

I go into the bathroom, rip my shirt off and start jumping around like a winner on THE PRICE IS RIGHT.

I run in to the kitchen, towel around my top.

"Kids, Mommy has a little problem. I need to shower for sec. Can you wait a few minutes for me?"

They look at me like I'm nuts, but agree.

In I go. Shower. Relief.

Out I come. Towel, mirror. Huge welt on right nipple area.

Spider bite.

OWIE, HERE COMES THAT PAIN AGAIN!!!!!!

Guess what?

That spider fell into my too-large shirt and down my too-large bra and nested himself in that "area." My bra was like the Bat cave, only for a spider and his spider-mobile.

There was so much extra room in there, I can tell you that if I threw a ferret down my shirt, he'd find a home in that bra cup and curl up to sleep. That's how "too big" my bra had become.

I have been spider-bitten before. These jokers don't mess around. Unlike bees, you don't feel the sting immediately, and you don't hear them coming.

Spiders are silent predators; they visit, leave their mark, then the sting comes later.

(Kind of like venereal disease, from what I hear).

Anyway, OWIE! The size and location of that bite were not good.

I had to sit at the table, my daughter's Cinderella ice pack in one hand over my breast, fork in the other, eating cold pork chops, and all I heard spilling from my mouth was, "Gosh, kids, mommy got bit by a spider! On the boob! Can you believe that? Only me, right? Kids, we can NEVER go in the yard again! The spiders are everywhere!"

My son: "Uh, jeez, mom, I think I may have a bite on my arm!"

Me: "Hurry! Take off your shirt! Let me inspect you for bugs NOW!"

Off goes my son's shirt; then I rush him to the bathroom to strip him of his jeans, etc.

My daughter - sane. Incredulous. Just wants the show to be over so she can eat.

My son? Sympathy spider bite only; I have incited spider paranoia! But you gotta love a kid like that - willing to not let you be alone in your spider-bite pain!

What kind of a mother am I, doing that?

One with a huge spider bite on her breast, that's what kind of suffering mother I am.

First order of business after that cold pork chop dinner?

Spray the entire neighborhood AND the inside of my house for spiders.

Second order of business carried out the next day?

Sears.

Bras OFF THE RACK. Never done that before (breasts always too big. Remember, I was rather large in Oompa Loompa days).

Grabbed a few "not-in-the-box" bras (what a miracle!) Tried them on, found three. All on sale, under $10 each! Let me tell you - I made sure you couldn't get a hair between the fabric and my skin. Not giving a nesting space to any creature, ever again, in my bra.

My friend Judy, hysterical with laughter said, "You know, if you're gonna keep losing weight, you need to not buy new bras. Buy some of those sports bras made of lycra or whatever that is and the bra will just shrink or grow depending on your weight. That'll hold ya and you won't spend money."

Yea, Judy, but I won't be perky, either. Some part of me needs to be perky!

Just to be safe, I called the nurse line at my doctor's office and left a message. I thought, "Heck, this is a tender area to be bitten. Let me be sure I shouldn't be doing something different than I am doing."

When the nurse called me back, she had heard my message and was chuckling.

Her first words to me? "I hear you picked up an unwanted hitchhiker, huh?"

Verrrryyyyy funnny.

I will report to you the following:

I survived said incident, both breasts in tact.

All spiders in a 15 mile radius of my home are dead, their relatives in surrounding areas are on a hit list. I have hired some blue jays to work for me and scour the area.

My kids will never go in the back yard again out of sheer spider paranoia.

My daughter never wants to use her Cinderella ice pack again because I held it "over my boob."

I will NEVER wear a bra that is too big for me, ever, ever again. By God, my pants can fall right off me, but my bras will always be snug!

"The itsy bitsy spider crawled in my bra and out

Out came the screams and I hopped and jumped about

Huge welt got bigger, then I got the ice

Cuz the itsy bitsy spider gave me quite a bite..."

Cheerth!