Warning: Curves Ahead

Perhaps instead the warning should read, "No Curves Allowed."

Those of a delicate nature would be advised to skip over this. I feel a rant coming on, sing it sister, hallelujia.

Bras.

I'll wait for the booing and hissing to die down.

Bras. There's that ugly word again. When you're my size, you can't go without one. I'm a Very Big Girl. Most of it is in my chest. I'm a 40-42 J cup. Big Girl.

Circus Freak big. I'm a monster.

No? You disagree?

Go shopping. Search the net. Search your local malls.

Find me ONE bra that is less than $30.00. Find me a GOOD one that's less than $40.00.

I'll be here waiting when you've finally given up in frustration and want to strangle someone. See, I'm already at that point.

A smaller woman can walk into Walmart and walk out, spending 30 bucks and carrying away 2-4 bras. I can't get one for that.

I have fibromyalgia. I can't wear underwires. I bruise. I blister. It's very unpleasant. Go ahead, find a soft cup bra big enough to fit me that's affordable. Find me a sleep bra, or a sports bra that will actually fit.

Forget it.

It's worse because my breasts are way too large, and the rest of me is much smaller. If I wore a 50 something band size, I'd be easier to fit.

I'm frustrated. I'm annoyed. I'm depressed. I want to be comfortable, dammit, and not have my kids starve to death because I dared to buy a new bra.

My last "new" bra is over 4 years old. I've bought a few since, and they never fit right. All too small. I was desperate. I won't waste the money again. I'm tired of maybes and almosts and not quites.

I want a bra that fits, dammit, and I don't want to have to sell a limb to get it.