To Lift and Separate

Today I was faced with a decision that I’m pretty sure Victoria wouldn’t admit is the secret of some women’s lingerie experience. Now, being somewhere between pleasingly plumb and goddess stature, I am always in search of bras that will hold back the flood gates of the bounty of my décolleté. And since I have, in the last year, traded swiftly between budget and timing droughts, I haven’t had the opportunity to make the trek to my favorite bra store, dubbed the “Wizard of Bras” because they carry sizes above DD, for those of us that are more well endowed than the implant storeroom of a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon without having had the luxury of choosing the size ourselves. ((Blog stalker beware, there’s no need in wondering what size when you’ll never see ‘em)) So, unfornuately, the sad state of my current stable of support equipment is quite limited. Now, to side step, this weekend was spent sanding and painting the new drywall in my kitchen (a whole ‘another story for another blog) and the remainder of the weekend spent cleaning up the resulting thick layer of dust from the sanding (and ‘nuggling Jake as much as possible) which meant that the usual mountain of laundry awaiting me each weekend is still waiting. So, this morning, I was faced with very few options as far as clothing and quite a few less for lingerie. What to do? After perusing the usual slim selection of bras and determining they were entirely too me-scented for one more day, I was left with no other choice than to delve into the wasteland of the dreaded (drum roll, please) bottom of the lingerie drawer!!! Every married woman knows what’s down there in the dark recesses that never see the light of day. Those ‘fun or sexy’ but incredibly uncomfortable g strings, boy shorts or otherwise not to be trusted to provide comfort underwear as well as the bras that don’t fit, cause a pooch to pop out over the top edge of the bra or otherwise fail to give us some vision of loveliness that will bolster our sagging images of ourselves if not actually bolster our sagging bosoms. What did I find? Today, my lovely ensemble is complete with a soft cotton, completely lacking in support maternity bra left over from the wondrous days of nursing my little one and a pair of itchy, lacy g strings stuffed between my copious cleavage to serve to separate the ‘twins’ as I’ve heard someone call them recently. Now, for those of you not endowed with more god-given blessings than you truly need, you will wonder why the need to separate. Well, men have the uni-brow, some women on the other hand, when confronted with materinty wear which thinks underwires are evil, have the uni-boob. So, I'm all about "Lift and Separate."
I hope you all have a great day, no matter what's in your wardrobe. *grins*