Posted on | January 11, 2012 | 139 Comments
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last week, i had a life changing experience.
like, the heavens (or whatever) opened up, michael c. hall looked down upon me and smiled. johnny depp did a roundhouse kick while kittens licked a tattoo of a narwhal onto me as an IV drip of the most perfect americano poured into my veins.
i had my first bra fitting.
you guys. LIFE CHANGING.
those of you who have had one, or multiple even, like normal people who don’t put off things like i do, probably just threw your hands up and yelled “I KNOW RIGHT!”. those of you who are in my boat and have never had one probably just covered your boobs at the thought of having someone fit you for a bra.
i’m here to suggest demand each and every one of you run, don’t walk, your ladies into a bra fitting RIGHT MEOW.
i was one of those lucky/unlucky ones who got boobs at the age of like 9 and got to figure out how i felt about that at the same time everyone else got to figure out how they felt about that. it was terrible, awkward, and i have never had a very good relationship with my boobs because of it. i resent them for lots of reasons – they made guys oogle me, take me less seriously, and most recently, they didn’t help me feed my baby when i needed them to. they aren’t my favorite, is what i’m saying.
so i guess instead of trying to make them the best they could be, i punished them by completely ignoring what would help them kick ace. LIKE A PROPER FITTING BRA. so i bought cheap bras at target in whatever size i assumed i was.
i’ve been wearing a 38 C or D for as long as i can remember. where did i get this number? one can only guess.
so last week, i was getting my stuff packed for a very important trip where i’d be on camera a lot. i told Scot there was no way i could go do such a thing with my ladies being all sad and…well, really effing sad. so i went to nordstrom for my first ever bra fitting. at 30 years old. that is approximately 21 years of boob-life without so much as someone measuring me or telling me my cup size.
so you can imagine my surprise/horror/omgwtf-ness as my boob handler matter-of-factly told me i was a 32DDD.
::crickets::
and you can imagine her surprise/HORROR/OMGWTF-ness as i informed her that i have been wearing OH MY GOD NOT THAT SIZE for my whole life. i wasn’t sure if she was going to hit me or pass out. i can only imagine what it’s like for a boob handler to hear how terribly boobs have been mistreated and neglected. it probably hurts their heart something fierce. suddenly in my head, my boobs in a bra too large and ill fitting sadly moped across a screen while sara mcLachlan sang in the background. i had the ASPCA commercial of breast situations happening.
she couldn’t get me the right size fast enough. within minutes my sisters were holstered into the most amazing, well fitting, glorious boob holster i had ever worn. it had memory foam cups you guys. and when i heard the size of my boobs, i was terrified i’d look like some sort of adult film star with the right size bra, but NO, they looked perky and not too big at all and that is when i saw ryan gosling. and he was all “hey girl. your boobies look hot today”.
since i doubt it’s appropriate to mouth kiss a boob handler, i thanked her profusely for changing my life and promised i’d come back to her for more bras in the near future (because let’s face it, i now own ONE bra that actually fits). when i put my old bra back on to go pay and leave, i think i heard my boobs say the f word. it wasn’t until then when i realized how dire my situation had been.
i will be mortally offended if those of you who have never had a bra fitting do not heed my advice to buck up and go get one. ESPECIALLY those of you with larger sisters. your life will be altered forever. your clothes will fit differently, your boobs will look amazing and you will all around be more comfortable. please do it. for the boobies.
tips before you go: shave your armpits and pick the sales person that looks the most friendly. they don’t see everything but you are in a bra-only situation. if you’re a mom, this probably won’t even bother you as everyone and their brothers have probably seen your nipples at some point, amirite? this is actually MILD compared to pushing a crotch monkey out of your nether regions.
be prepared to be at least a little bit shocked at your actual size. i mean, i was wearing a bra SIX INCHES too big for me around the chest. and 3-4 cups sizes TOO SMALL. no wonder my boobs were BFF’s with my belly button. GET THESE TATA’S SOME SUPPORT FOR CRYING IN THE RIVER. i learned that your shoulder straps should never be at the tightest, and same with your clasps in the back. that means the whole party is too big. there is also a correct way to get into a bra that involves a little shimmy at the end so they get into place. i went to nordstrom and had a wonderful experience, but i know a lot of places do bra fittings.
ok, i’m done. i think. hope you could read the post ok over the SINGING OF MY BOOBS. they have never been so happy.
now go back and re-read taking a drink every time you see the word boob. cheers!
Posted on | January 10, 2012 | 35 Comments
i’ve ACTUALLY been keeping up on a photo project! it’s been so fun to figure out what to shoot that i never forget. here are my pictures from the past week.
psst. the photos from the 8th and 9th were taken in my hotel room in San Francisco, where i was for roughly 31 hours shooting a video with Levi’s for a documentary style ad campaign about my blog, Harper, my style, etc. one of my new year goals was to stop saying and typing SQUEE, but i think there should be an exception for this occasion, don’t you?
i really, really do.
Posted on | December 12, 2011 | 45 Comments
if you were around these parts last Christmas, you may remember how Harper reacted to meeting the big jolly guy. if you were around, the image of her scream-crying, reaching out desperately whilst Santa shushed her (quite creepily i may add) probably just jumped into your mind and made you giggle. but if you weren’t here, let me refresh your memory:
yeah.
this year, we prepared for the same, but she did awesome. like, so awesome my face almost fell clean off from the perfectness. apparently, my kid has only 2 speeds when it comes to Santa meetings: melt-your-face-off-hilariously-terrified OR melt-your-face-off-RIDICULOUSLY-ADORABLY-MAGICAL.
SERIOUSLY.
she was so excited she was literally jumping up and down when it was her turn. she went right up and gave Santa a hug, sat on his lap and told him she wanted a tool set for Christmas (the look on his face was priceless). she told him she had been a good girl this year (mostly true) and as we left she yelled “merry christmas santa!”. it was just stupid how precious it all was.
i stare at this photo every time i walk by it on our mantle. she looks so adorable, but so LARGE, like a real kid. in my mind, she is still like 2 feet tall and has rubberband wrists and leg rolls. but that isn’t the case. she looks so grown up and completely different from last year. SIGH. i am simultaneously overwhelmed with pride and sadness when i look at it.
ugh, i got something in both my eyes. ::wipes face::
let’s make this a link up like last year – share your posts featuring your cute, sad, and hilarious santa pictures (please be sure to link the post, not just your blog URL)! it’s a great way to get a good dose of giggles in, and find new blogs to enjoy. wheeee!
sweater and striped tank underneath: h&m //jeggings and flats: target
