Lately, I've been upset about boobs. I would say the distress began in earnest the week of Christmas, when I finished the "Fight Gone Bad" workout and the body part that hurt the most was not my lungs but my nipples. One of my least favorite side effect of pregnancy is the boob pain. Fifteen minutes of exertion, and my chest was screaming, literally stabbing knives into my guts and making me want to die in a way nothing really ever has before.
My boobs held the center of my attention that entire day, and I noticed two things: my largest Frog Bras no longer fit and my tremendous tatas also squirted out the sides of my Hallelujah bra. These are the sorts of names bras have when they are large enough for my DD, unpregnant boobs. Swollen with second-trimester progesterone, I'm now entering the territory of bras with names like "Last Resort." Bras with buckles, straps, scaffolding. Over the shoulder boulder holders, if you will. Emphasis on the boulders.
Because man, do I have boulders. And they aren't even full of milk yet! I don't know what the hell I'mg going to do to contain them. My friend Laura had bigger boobs than mine pre-pregnancy. She has to special order her bras from England. Sure, I could go to Olga Warner with the old, Mennonite, mustachioed ladies and buy something beige. One of those, including underwire, would be ok for teaching or even grocery shopping.
But what the hell am I supposed to wear to exercise? Even before a baby swelled my bosom, my boobs would fall into my mouth during inverted yoga postures. They practically punch me in the face when I'm running. Is it too much to ask for the country to make big, sturdy bras for athletic endeavors? Why can't I go to Dick's like the rest of the athletes and actually try on my bras before purchasing?
Some of my buxom friends double up the flimsy little paper things from Wal-Mart. They buy like 80 of them at a time and wear them until they fall apart--two to three minutes probably.
This isn't a solution. That's at best a compromise.
I want bras. I want sturdy, compressing bras for my now DDD breasts. I'm not even asking for something pretty or something Tyra Banks would wear. Just something that keeps my boobs in the middle of my chest and my nipples still so they don't fire off another round of shrapnel into my body when I do burpees.