We've all been here

GUY WARNING - this is a very girly post. Proceed at your own risk. (Actually I don't know if there are any/many guys who read this but it doesn’t hurt to be safe.)

There are a few things in life that I absolutely hate. Going to the dentist is #1. Going to the gynecologist is #2. Getting a mammogram is #3. Buying bras is #4. Since insurance covers Numbers 1 through 3, at least I don’t have to pay out of pocket as well as enduring the annoyance of it all. But Number 4 means annoyance with a price.

If you haven’t bought a bra lately (or, if you are of the male persuasion and have never bought a bra - and if you have bought one, I don’t want to hear about it) let me assure you they are not cheap. I’m not talking about anything fancy, just your garden variety boob-holders. Starting price, $20 minimum. And that’s just the basics at the local outlet mall. If you shop in a department store, $30 or more isn’t unrealistic for a single bra. Or you can go to Wal-mart and get a three-pack of cotton cheapies for about $11. Which I have been known to do from time to time. Not being . . . um . . . heavily endowed . . . has its advantages.

I could buy a lot of things for $30: a partial tank of gas, one day’s entries at an obedience or agility trial (well, almost), a pair of jeans, dinner for me and the Farmer at our favorite steakhouse, a fun new sweatshirt . . . need I go on? Spending $30 for something that essentially no one will ever see is just wrong.

So it was with a great deal of dismay I realized after doing a load of laundry recently that the much-dreaded need-to-go-bra-shopping day was upon me. My current collection looked like it had been chewed on by a pack of rabid badgers. Or a malinois. I think they're about the same thing. Let’s just say it was time for some new ones.

It seems to be my luck that when I find a style that fits well and is comfortable, the manufacturer immediately discontinues it. This phenomenon is not limited to women’s undergarments. It also applies to lip balm, cake mix and mini vans. Seems like the simple fact of me liking something probably means it won’t be around much longer. It’s a wonder I still have friends.

First, I decided to get a couple of new sports bras for agility class nights and trial weekends. I like sports bras because you never find yourself at the pause table, fumbling for a strap that is somewhere it shouldn’t be and praying the judge counts slower because he’s already on “. . . and two and . . .” while your right hand is buried up to the elbow of your left sleeve, trying to haul that damned strap back into place.

I wanted something that was not cotton. Cotton is great but when you get sweaty, you stay sweaty with cotton as a base layer. So I ordered a couple sports bras from one of my favorite on-line clothing sources. They were even sort of fancy-schmancy ones, with moisture-wicking fabric and all that good stuff. When they were delivered, I immediately had to try them on. The dogs watched. I know, that’s weird but I think it was their entertainment for the day.

The first bra was apparently made from recycled steel-belted radials. I couldn’t even get it over my head. Seriously. And I’m pretty sure it was the right size. I had it around my neck and one arm and I was stuck. That baby wasn’t going anywhere. I think the canvas tarp that goes over our grain truck would have been more pliable.

Apparently, just putting that thing on would meet my exercise goal for the day. If I ever got it completely on, the Farmer would have had to use a crow bar to help me take it off. After some reverse contortions (the dogs were rolling around on the bed, wagging their tails with laughter), I finally got the thing off. I was sweaty and think I’d pulled a muscle.

The second one went on easier but gave me the dreaded uni-boob. The girls aren’t enormous, heck they aren’t even large, but I would prefer them to look like two individuals and not one squished together lump. That bra went back, too. The dogs were still laughing.

I went to the bra shop at the local outlet mall on my way home from work yesterday. Nothing fit. Ugh. I wonder if there is a certain time of the day that is best for bra shopping? They say you should try on shoes at the end of the day because your feet swell and might actually be bigger at 6 p.m. then they were at 6 a.m. I’m pretty sure the girls are the same size all day long.

So I’m back to square one. Guess I’ll stick with what I’ve got for now or at least until they fall apart in the washer or Phoenix steals them out of the laundry basket one too many times.