There’s a Beautiful South song that’s been in my head all day: “36D, so what? D, so what? Is that all that you’ve got?” On the cover of the single is a lingerie model holding a watermelon.
In my book, 36D does not qualify as a watermelon. I should know. I carried around a watermelon in lieu of my waist for several months. Actually, I carried around two.
And I am happy to report that the watermelons have left the premises. Of course, in their place I have a couple of cantaloupe that migrated a bit north.
I therefore went bra shopping on Sunday. Unfortunately, Target does not carry cantaloupe-sized bras. So yesterday I went to Nordstrom, which is where I should have gone in the first place. Cheap outerwear is fine, but cheap bras are not, especially when you’re nursing: a crummy bra can cause clogged ducts and contribute to mastitis. And I’ve already had mastitis once since the boys were born; it’s not an experience I care to repeat.
So off to Nordstrom I went, where they carry all manner of random bra sizes and have saleswomen who know how to help you find the right one. My saleslady took one look at my six-week-old Target nursing bra and said, “Oh, sweetie,” in a tone that mixed both horror and pity. “Let’s find you something that fits.”
I ditched the 36D Target bra and came home with two 34H nursing bras. Yes, you read that right. H as in humongous.
But hey, at least it’s not a watermelon.
