Walker and I took his sister out to lunch on Monday, which meant that I rolled my fanny out of bed before noon on a workday. That doesn't happen too often, as I'm one of those wacky people who actually enjoys working into the wee hours of the morning. At any rate, we finished lunch and had hours before I had to go to work, so I had Walker drive us out to the mall. While he did whatever boys do in the sporting goods department, I headed to Lingerie to get myself fitted for a bra that would balance out my girls.
Now, I probably sound like a cranky old biddie but when I saw the teenager working behind the counter I figured I was on my own. My apologies to the young lady, but honestly, how much experience could she really have? And it's not like I was there just to pick out something pretty. I needed actual help. Or so I thought.
You know those molded bras that look like they come with boobs already in them? The ones that flank the aisles of the department store making you believe that yes! You too can look like a proud owner the very finest implants, ready and waiting for an open casting call to Jerseylicious. Yep, those. Being somewhat, ahem, generously proportioned, I had never even considered buying something like that. I considered it that day. I also tried it on. It came home with me. And it brought a friend. All I had to do was find one that fit the healthy boob. The other side? Well, it's got some extra breathing room, but in this thing, no one can tell. Score one for me!