Laptops and Boobs (I Swear This Isn't About Porn)

My computer died. Except, no wait, PSYCH! It's just fine. I have no idea, actually. Recently, when I unplug it to use it as an actual laptop (instead of just a desktop that closes), the battery runs down in less than an hour. But, since it's a four-year old computer--and let's face it,  they're practically disposable these days--I'd resigned myself to the fact that the battery doesn't have the staying power it used to and I'd just leave it plugged in. But then, two nights ago, it started giving me all kinds of warnings about low battery / plug in quickly / help me I'm dying. But it was plugged in. Great! I checked all the connections and they all looked...connected. I unplugged it all and shut it down, pulled off the battery, waited a few seconds, and then reversed the process. It was still mad and I feared that I was going to have to replace the battery (over $100) or the cord ($80) or both. OR, luck-that-is-not-mine, it wasn't the battery or the cord at all, but some internal component that would be even more expensive to fix and I would probably need a whole new computer and I would have to say good-bye to all of my data.

Except, maybe I shouldn't have looked at it right away after reversing the process. You know, before it had a chance to charge. Because everything is all fine now. Plugged in, fully charged, looking like normal. I'm still worried it might happen again and NOT be reversible, but for now I'm pretending nothing happened. Because I do not need anything else added to the list of "First Priority Purchase As Soon As You Have An Income Again." I have about eleven first priority purchases on that list already.

And as I'm typing this, my iPhone is mocking my very words. For months now, I've been having trouble with the home button. Every once in a while, it just...stops working. And then starts up again in a very laptop-dying-psych kind of way (I'm told this is a software issue). It's over two years old and generations behind at this point, but I was hoping it would hold out until, you know, INCOME, since even at contract renewal, iPhones aren't exactly cheap. Anyway, the home button had intermittent trouble. But it hasn't acted up in months. In fact, the last problem was a few weeks before the morning I woke up to find my lock button no longer worked. I have no idea what happened while I slept that night, but there is now no locking, resetting, or powering down my phone. Luckily, a friend had recently showed me the AssistiveTouch button, so I lock it manually. At the time, I thought, "God help me if the home button ever acts up again, since I'll have no other way to get to the lock screen to turn on my phone or USE it!" And here we are: God help me. I now mash the button a million times or plug it in to get the charging screen. Or wait until someone texts me.

TECHNOLOGY IS FUN!!

And that wasn't even what this post was supposed to be about. But I'm too lazy to break it into two posts or wait to post on my original subject until tomorrow, because I must blog while the iron is hot (I think I'm mixing my metaphors a little there, but you know what I mean). What I ACTUALLY came here to talk about was boobs. MY boobs, specifically. I know, there's no good way to introduce them or this topic. But I soldier valiently onward.

By now, many of you have read the Bra Post by Jen at EPBOT (also of Cake Wrecks fame). I read it with great interest because I have always (and I mean ALWAYS) hated my boobs and my bras and anything related to bra shopping, even stretching as far as shirt shopping, because nothing fits right or looks good. In fact, I've always joked that I got my father's singing voice and his bra size (hint, both of those equal "none"). But if I'm being honest and serious, I have been more than bothered by this on many occasions. Even though I know intellectually that my identity as a human being or as a woman does not lie in my body shape, I have been broken-hearted over this issue more than a handful of times. I have never liked my weight, but I can (and have) changed that. But I cannot change my bra size (the cup size did not change perceptibly no matter how much I lost or gained), unless I'm willing to under-go an expensive surgical procedure. I am not. And so I've remained sad and secretly doubtful of my own femininity, while also feeling stupid for that doubt.

So when Jen posted about going up several cup sizes just by buying the right bra, I was intrigued, but incredibly skeptical. Partly, I was thinking, "You have what you have, bra or not, and when I look down, there's just not a lot there." And partly, I was thinking, "Even if there is some kind of miracle here, it's not going to apply to me because my boobs are hopeless." So I let the information sift around in my brain for a while and promised myself that when I had an income, I think about splurging on some new bras and see what happened (Are you noticing a theme of putting everything on hold until I get a job? Welcome to my life for the last 18 months). But I was not hopeful and I was not excited.

But today, it was hot out. And I'm tired of my closet's sundress options. And even though I told myself not to buy any clothes until I a) lose more weight and b) have an income (broken record alert!), I saw that Target was having a small sale on maxi dresses. I was just going to try a few on, get sad in the dressing room, and go home defeated. You know, normal Tuesday stuff. But then! I found a (magical) dress that somehow managed to diminish the hudge and looked pretty good (most maxi dresses are terrible and don't look good on the skinniest and tallest of supermodels, so I rarely even try them on). The only problem was, it was black and white striped and you would be able to see anything but nude colored underthings, of which I have zero. I suppose I could add an undershirt or a slip or something, but the point in buying it would be to remain cool and extra layers wouldn't help with that.

So I very hesitantly entered the bra department. Just to LOOK. And achieve my goal of getting sad in the dressing room  and going home defeated. Now, I'm a big girl, but I have little to no boob, which is apparently a freak of nature if you're going by any clothing store anywhere in America. No one really makes bras for that. At my smallest, I was just barely squeezing into a 36, so I knew I needed at least a 38. But practically no one makes a 38A (or an almost A, if we're talking the unpadded bras made of thin materials), so I decided to try a 38B, hoping that Jen was right about the Swoop & Scoop method. I should note here that I'm STILL squeezing into the same 36s at more than 100lbs heavier (and almost four YEARS without a new bra), so I rationalized that it wasn't too much of a waste of money to get one new, ill-fitting bra, because it wasn't like the other ones were really helping me either. Plus, I am a (somewhat) grown-up lady and it is high time I owned ONE bra that was not covered in cutesy little patterns that show through unless I wear an undershirt. That's a lot of caveats and side-trails. Sorry.

ANYway, I grabbed several different kinds of 38Bs and took myself off to be disappointed. And sure enough, the bands were a tight fit and nothing looked good. So that meant I was a 40A? There is no way in hell anyone makes that size. I'm pretty sure 40Bs are nearly as rare. I was probably going to have to go to some custom bra maker and pay a quadrillion dollars to get anything that would actually fit my Frankensteinian body (it doesn't matter if you read this as the monster or the scientist, since I'm pretty sure neither of them fit into standard bra sizes). As you can imagine, this was not putting me in a good mood. Also, the bras wanted me to talk to them:

Most of the others commanded me to TOUCH or FEEL them. And standing naked in a dressing room at Target, sweaty and annoyed and tired of groping myself into submission, I didn't take too kindly to being bossed around by my bras. As you can imagine, I was losing heart quickly. But then I noticed something. I would swoop & scoop and tug & mug and whatever other kind of rhyming method of grabbing myself in a way that's generally inappropriate in public--and yet there was something wrong with the cups. If I pulled from the outside, the cup wrinkled and bulged unappealingly, but if I tried to pull it smooth, all the swooping and scooping was undone. It was almost as if... the cups weren't... large enough.

...

...

WHAT?

No way. I must have been doing it wrong. If I hadn't been so sweaty and annoyed, I might have just called it quits and/or opened up Jen's post on my phone for a quick dressing room re-read. Instead, I threw on my terrible bra and my clothes and trekked back over to the bra section. I grabbed all the same bras in 38C (even the bossy ones) and headed back to the dressing room, rolling my eyes at my ridiculous presumption the whole way. This was only going to lead to more heart break and despair, but I couldn't stop myself. The band was still going to be too tight and the cup was going to be too big and I was going to end up in tears before this was over, but apparently I'm not done with a dressing room until I'm crying.

Except that no, I am not a Special Snowflake of Boob Sadness; I am just like every other girl in the comments on EPBOT and in the Reddit thread Jen linked to. I am full cup sizes larger than I expected to be. I am a 38C. I...don't even know what to do with this.

This is where I'd post old bra/new bra or before/after side-by-side photos (fully clothed and without my face, of course) if I wasn't home alone and terrible at taking my own picture. The few I've managed don't show the dramatic change as well as I'd like and are grainy cellphone photos. Oh hell, here are my boobs:

The top is before (with old bra) and the bottom is after (with new bra). Like I said: crappy picture, but better boobs.

The band size is still a bit of an issue, but it works for now. Since I'm actively losing weight, I'm going hang out here until I know what's going on with my body. Also, there was a two pack for the same price as the other two top contenders and you can guess which one won, so I have TWO new bras that make me happy. I'm still figuring out the right strap length and I wish the sides didn't roll at all (although this one does that MUCH less than my others). Plus, I look like a real live grown up lady who doesn't have to feel nearly so bad about her figure and also might be able to get away with not wearing an undershirt once in a while. Oh, and I also bought myself that dress:

Image from Target

So much for waiting until I have an income to buy new clothes....