The tits are alright.

I ordered a few new sports bras from Amazon because mine were all a decade old and pinched my shoulders, and… Y’all, Glamorise is NOT fucking around.


And I’m short, so this covers about 1/3 of my back.

The ULTIMATE in mammary security!

Victoria’s Secret is that she’s always cold.

As if we needed more proof of what a classy lady I am, I pulled my bra strap away from my back because it was itching, and ended up putting my finger through the fabric.

I mean, it’s like you can’t rely on a 5-year-old bra anymore. What CAN I believe in, Universe?

Right, then. Shopping. 

Also, this is totally how I roll when I wear flannel pajamas. Victoria’s Secret gets me.


Flashing for fries

It is ass hot and 6000% humid, so obviously work clothes need to come off as soon as I walk in the house. But I had just taken off my bra when I realized that if I want dinner, I have to have it delivered. I prefer to have a bra on if I’m human-facing, but I’m not putting that damn thing back on, leading to this actual thing I just said to myself out loud: “Fuck it. Deal with my breasts, delivery guy.”

Think I could get the fries for free? I like to pretend I’m better than that, but…I’m exhausted and hungry, so I’m really not.

Defying gravity with vanity sizing

Let me just tell y’all what a bunch of bullshit vanity sizing is. 

I’m wearing an industrial-strength, pulleys and levers, $50, DD cup strapless bra from Victoria’s Secret, because that’s the only strapless bra I’ve ever found that stays where it’s supposed to and presents my breasts in the resplendent manner to which I’ve become accustomed.

And I am wearing it under an adorable strappy tank top that’s a size fucking small. DOUBLE D BOOBS SHOULD NOT LIVE IN A SMALL. 

I feel bad for ACTUAL small people. This is how we get sizes like 00 and XXS.

Also, I don’t know how the shit “DD” happened. In the past 10 years or so I’ve gone from C to D and then to DD, without any growth. They’re ample, but not, like, special-size large. So I think they’re screwing with bra sizes, too. 

This is why I can’t be trusted at sporting events.

I’m at a baseball game, and looking at the jugs on some of the male fans, I’m suddenly very grateful women get to wear bras.

Li’l chilly in the ballpark tonight, sir?

One manifestation of my repressed and rigid nature is that I prefer my breasts to be contained, lifted, and orderly. Can’t have that shit all willy-nilly.