Long before Sib # 2 had her surgical procedure she was popping out children. Her oldest was born a few months before Precious Youngest. At the time Sib # 2 lived about three hours from me, and I went to visit her shortly before she had her baby.
Sib # 2 is not known for her organizational skills AND she has a tendency to put things off. While I was there I spent a lot of time helping her get the baby’s room finished and running errands for her because I was huge, but she was huger.
She asked me to go to some specialty lingerie store to pick up nursing bras that she had ordered. I didn’t know such a store even existed, but I guess if you’re well endowed you don’t just roll into Victoria’s Secret and shop off the rack.
I walk into the store (remember, visibly pregnant) and there are two stern looking ladies behind the counter with eye glasses on chains and tape measures hanging around their necks. I tell them I’m there to pick up an order for insertsistersnamehere
So they’re looking from me, to the bras, and back to me and one of the woman croaks out “Honey, these are 42 Gs*!” I nod and say yes, here’s a credit card. Not to be dissuaded she goes on, “Well sweetie, I don’t know what you’ve been reading, but you’ll be lucky to pray your way to a C cup when you’re nursing!” After assuring them that I was in fact picking this up for SOMEONE ELSE, they let me pay a slink away in shame.
Now let me tell you, those braziers were architectural wonders. SIX HOOKS in the back, SIX! I could fit my entire head in one cup! Not like a hat mind you; covering my entire HEAD. And don’t look at me that way; if you were me you’d have tried it too!
Over at Suburban Correspondent’s place she’s hoping to break her record 45 comments. Me? I'm going to try praying my way to a C cup.
(Ahem, Editors Note *: Cup size? Goes thusly: D, DD or E, DDD of F, then G. Holy shit.)