Hot Boys and Big Boobs
2006-05-29, 10:25 p.m.
Okay, on another hand...some funnier stuff from the weekend.
Most of this weekend was spent shopping, in one form or another. I needed to pick up some stuff that I'm just not bloody allowed to pick up in my town or else it'll lose its small town atmosphere (insert eye-roll here, why can't we have a Target?), and Mom decided to join the technological revolution and get a Palm, as well as other stuff. Between that and installing her iPod shuffle, I'm busy computer-wrestling.
Saturday was memorable for something that's never happened to me before: seeing two cute guys in one day.
One cute guy was the son of a friend of Mom's that she was "dropping off" a present for. (That took 45 minutes.) Anyway, her son came out, and wow, he was hot. Though he was also pretty much the epitome of 22-Year-Old-Slacker, seeing as he was barefoot, unshaven, wearing ripped-up jeans, and yawning a lot at 3 p.m. Mom said he'd just moved back home again. Yeah, yeah, me trolling on someone else slacking isn't a good idea. Think he was kinda checking me out, though. I had my sunglasses on and without the usual nerdgear, maybe I was looking hot or something. Oh well, still 22 and living in a town I hardly ever go to and unemployed anyway.
The other hot guy is currently a hospital employee, who's transferring to Davis this summer. Mom keeps asking me for information for him and then passing it on. Anyway, he's cute too, and Mom was all, "Wow, he perked up when you walked in. Most likely has a girlfriend, though, given how much time he spends on the phone (plus, again, probably 22).
In other news...I hate Oprah being always right and holy and saintly and The Almighty Oprah. Don't you?
Almost a year later, I'm unfortunately needing to go bra-shopping. And the pickings in the outlets over a C cup are slim, which means we have to hit Nordstrom's, Land of the Expensive for 'em. And she's all, "Look, I'll pay for them if you'll just agree to get fitted for a bra," and then trots out the "nobody wears the right bra size" crap at me.
Here's why I didn't want to:
(a) I did my own version of fitting, i.e. trying on various sizes all over the place. Why isn't that good enough, pray tell?
But, most of my remaining fundage this month is going towards buying an external hard drive. And at this point I'm down to like one or two bras that didn't break or get lost or something or aren't sports bras, and one can't shop for these sorts of things in my town. So, FINE, I agree to it.
Within five seconds, the salesgirl is all "You're a 32DD."
Bad enough I was all, "32? Jaysus, I'm not a skinny little marink any more." (The salesgirl was all, "Yeah, I didn't believe it when they said it to me either.") Bad enough that 32's are um, quite tight. (Salesgirl swears they loosen up after about 4 wearings.) But a motherfucking DOUBLE D?!
Yeah, try finding THAT BRA SIZE like, EVER. Not to mention that wearing pretty colored bras are now a thing of my past. Or at least, wearing any that cost less than $50 per tit.
The dang 32DD bras give me Madonna torpedo breasts. It's really disturbing. Mom and the saleschick were going on about how hot I looked, and I'm thinking, dude, who do I need to impress these days with pointy tits? The guy who said my boobs were bigger than his head?
Anyway. I cannot say I have been converted happily to The Wonder That Is Oprah. Even if I now have a bunch of double-D bras.
And yes, I HAD TO get The Oprah Bra.
The one consoling thing about this came out of Mom: "Well, at least you don't have the same bra size as Grandma any more."