[Imported] In one of those moods where nothing is TMI

Since the bra I was wearing in this picture broke shortly afterward (coincidence? I think not!) (oh, and no, you can't SEE my bra in that photo, you pervs. Is that the only reason you clicked?) (also, that was totally my favorite bra – best I ever owned, hands down, and now I have half a mind to sue Darien Lake for a new bra, and really, what trial lawyer wouldn't want to try that case?) (Oh, and yeah, that's me riding a coaster with Diablo Cody. Go on, be jealous.)(I swear I'm done with these parenthetical asides now), so my mom gave me money to buy three brand new bras for a little back-to-school "gift," if you will. And that's a totally appropriate gift for the occasion, right? Calculator, text books, 0.5mm lead for my mechanical pencils…What good would any of those things do me at school if my boobs are hanging down to my knees? Maybe when I graduate (in 38 years), she'll get me an underwear/douche combo!!!

Okay, seriously, I do appreciate my mom's offer, because if she didn't buy me bras, I certainly wouldn't. I hate bra shopping, and I'm not about to go out and spend money to do it. It's quite possibly accepted by women everywhere to be the worst type of shopping there is, and if you boys think I'm wrong about this, just imagine if jockstraps were part of your everyday wardrobe, and how annoying those things would be to buy, especially if they came in about 8329.4 variations, and you had to try on EVERY SINGLE ONE and STILL not find one that fits "just right." And even if you DO find one that fits, you still don't feel great about it, because now you actually have to WEAR it, and no matter how well it fits, it's still not comfortable by the time hour 3 rolls around every day.

Also, I haven't really ever owned any pretty, sexy bras because, well, I'm pretty much the only one that sees them, and honestly, I stopped trying to impress myself a long time ago. All my bras are plain and white or nude with straps as wide as the Mississippi River and reinforced with some NASA-designed light-weight titanium alloy, because THAT'S JUST THE KIND OF SUPPORT I NEED. And if the straps of my bra are any narrower than, say…your average two-lane highway, then they dig into my shoulders which end up looking like the grand canyon by the end of the day, complete with sight-seeing tourists and base-jumpers.

(By the way, if you are one of those women with perky boobs that don't even require a bra, then I want you to leave this blog right now and never speak to me again. My chest doesn't like you anymore.)

But on my recent coaster trip, I just happened to see my roommate's very fancy bra (fancy compared to what I wear, at least) lying on the floor, and I thought to myself, "Self…you are 22 years old. Get yourself something HOT already, woman!" So when my mom offered to buy me three new bras, that's just what I set out to do.

Like I said, though, bra shopping is not at all fun. There are literally thousands of bras to choose from at most stores, all with their different sales pitches and enhancements which drive me crazy. Listen – my boobs do not need any Pushing Up, they certainly don't need a Miracle, and they definitely don't need any more Wonder. I've got wonder to spare. MY BOOBS ARE UP TO THEIR NIPPLES IN WONDER. I just need a basic bra that doesn't look like my grandmother's, that minimizes bouncing, and that doesn't poke me to death, and you'd be surprised at how hard that is to find.

I ended up trying on about 30 bras, I think, and finally narrowed it down to a plain nude one (similar to my favorite on that broke, and since I have a few shirts that you can see even plain white bras through, I did need to get this ONE boring one), one fire-engine red one (Whooooo! I'm on FI-YAH!), and one pretty blue one with lace or flower print or needle point or something. I can't remember exactly, but I just know it was pretty. There were two gorgeous bras that I really had my fingers crossed for, while trying them on. The first was perfect in every way, until the moment when somehow my fingernails just happened to brush across the surface of the fabric. It honestly sounded like I was scratching a record, and while I can't imagine there ever being many instances in which my fingernail would come into contact with my bra for that sound to be heard in a public setting, that's just not the risk I'd like to take. Plus, what if I still had that bra when I got married? I don't think I like the idea of me being my husband's personal turntable.

The other bra I liked was a beautiful color, it fit perfectly, and it was on sale. I love things that are on sale. The flaw, though, was that it snapped in front. Now back in high school, I used to like bras that snapped in front – they were much easier to get off and on, and they didn't poke into my spine whenever I leaned back in a chair. But every day I wore it, the snap would suddenly undo itself as I was walking down the halls at school, eating pizza in the cafeteria, doing a presentation to my entire class, etc. And there are very few occurrences in life that deliver the same level of panic in a girl as her boobs suddenly plummeting to the ground below while standing in front of all her peers.