A Bigger Boob Than I Thought I Was

I had a boob job yesterday. No anesthesia. No incisions. No saline. No swelling. I simply pulled off my top and a gifted saleswoman gave me a bigger bra … made me a bigger boob. I’m a different person today. I find myself reaching all the high notes on “Lord lift ‘em up where they bel-oh-oh-ong” and the low notes on that Right Said Fred classic “I’m too sexy for Milan, too sexy for Milan, New York, and Japan,” as though my lungs suddenly expanded too. Since my bosom buddy inflated my cup size (and ego), I’ve been nervously expecting a phone call to say that there’s been a terrible mix-up, and I need to give the boobs back.

A few sunny days—and cupsizes—ago, I was fighting with my knickers and bras trying to find a decent, somewhat-matching set that didn’t leave either a visible panty or visible bra line. I was going for dinner with a bunch of girlfriends and wanted to dress up a little, from the inside out, and not just pull a fresh-icing-on-a-not-so-fresh-slice-of-cake number. Some of my girlfriends are single sex-in-the-city types, and because they don’t have Spiderman underpants, athlete’s foot creams, or cat litter to buy, I imagine that they spend all their millions on delicate European underthings, exotic massages, and skin-conditioning treatments, when they’re not shoe-shopping that is. Determined to look and feel like a “woman” and not a harried-and-married-mother-of-two, I produced the saucy peach-colored undies I’d indulged in over a year ago and worn once, for half an hour. Frilled and flounced up, laced and ribboned in, I was quickly reminded that the peachey ensemble works best with a pair of bedsheets.

Several wardrobe changes later, I found myself relapsing to the reliable well-worn and much-machine-washed plain cotton bra and matching panties. At least it matches, I thought, though I had to maneuver the bra a little to keep everything perky. I sighed in the mirror realizing, yet again, that no matter how fabulous the top, if I throw it on over my practical bra, I somehow feel like a hundred dollars, not a million.

109 readers liked this story.
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12.30.2008
WildOink
I thought for the longest time that I was only a 38B. Come to find out, I was a 40D! And I have to agree with you, I could actually breathe with the new fit. I loved this story. You made me feel as though I were listening to you telling me the story in person.
12.28.2008
Rana Peters
bras - can't live with em, can't live without em
12.25.2008
WebVet
I LOVED this story! ...and a new-comer to NYC, am excited to make a small excursion of my own to the stern bra-fitter!
11.22.2008
antwon erving
I'm a man and I loved your story and your writing. You are very talented. I only wonder is it really possible for the bottom to be too big.:)
09.24.2008
Bee
This was a great story. I bought.. no, no. no, I was fitted to an Oprah's favorite for my daughter's wedding and it felt wonderful. It was expensive and so formed that it really needed its own drawer!!! Don't you just love it?!
It feels good to write.

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