A Tale of Two Tities

November 21, 2012 § Leave a comment

Father Ted, trapped in Irelands largest lingerie store – I know how he feels

No doubt the title of this blog post is also the title of some sleazy soft porn film. Anyone having done a google search and found this post, expecting it to be a bit…”oh er missus, how’s your father”…is going to be a bit disappointed (although there is a shot of my big fat arse in another post).

No, indeed, this post is about the trauma of badly fitting bras, of which I am a sufferer at present. As readers of this blog will already know, I am now the size of two baby elephants who’ve been eating too much cake and my boobs are like the heads of those baby elephants. None of my bras fit me, wearing them is like wearing some sort of medieval undergarment designed for torture. I can’t, not wear a bra, otherwise, well, people would notice and it’d be VERY embarrassing, so I have to go buy some new ones…and therein lies the problem.

I hate going to the shops. Even as a fit and healthy person it was a bore and I would put it off at all costs. However, I am also a lover of clothes and fashion. I have several wardrobes full of them (my babies). One is a large bank of them in the bedroom (poor Steve has a tiny portion of one of them and even that is squashed in against my clobber). I have another overflow wardrobe in another part of the house and in the attic I have a rail of 80s and 90s clothes that are either too small, or too ‘young’ for me, but which I can’t bear to sell or give away. I admit it, I am an addict, I can’t help it, I prefer however to think of it as a hobby.

My mother was a dress maker, a brilliant one, you should’ve seen the amazing elaborate wedding dresses she would make. She didn’t even have to measure people, she just looked at them and knew what size to make. So I blame her. I was surrounded by fabrics and clothes from birth, it obviously affected my cognitive development.

To service my obsession, I buy online. And I don’t mind buying second hand. As long as the item is good quality and not overly worn, it’s fine by me. I’ve bought some beautiful pieces from eBay, one woman’s cast off’s is another woman’s dream dress: I bought a Missoni dress for a tenth of the price if bought new and it is worn, but still beautiful. I’ve spent quality time learning my size in different brands so that I can almost, without fail, get a good fit, even when buying without trying on.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t extend to bras. I have failed to buy bras online that fit me, I just can’t get it right. So…this means a trip to the dreaded shop to try on and buy bras. The boredom of it all sweeps over me and makes me want to become a 1970’s feminist and burn the damned things.

I’m going to go with my daughter on Friday and just do it. We will go for a vegan breakfast at a lovely cafe in Newcastle first and that should bolster me for the onslaught. Wish me luck, as you wave me goodbye, a tale of two tities will hopefully have a happy ending.

And now for a bit of mirth – the bit in Father Ted where the priests get trapped in ‘Ireland’s largest lingerie department’ (said in an Irish accent please!)


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