Went bra shopping.
Yes, probably nuff said. But you know me. Too far is not nearly far enough...
Despite losing weight have gone UP a bra size. F. I ask you. Size F. I nearly cried in the change room at DJs when I realised that good old E was er too squishy. And what is F for anyway? I mean it was E for Enormous, F for fucking gigantic Flipsy and Flop perhaps?
A for appealing
B for beautiful
C for a cupful
D for delicious
E for enormous
F for Frickin huge.
Soon they will be obscuring my belly button. Swing low sweet chariot, la, la, la...
Yes. It doesn't get much worse does it...
OH actually It DOES. If after you've had a small meltdown about your new bra size you decide to go shopping for swimmers. Why I didn't just fling myself off the top level of the Westfield carpark, I don't know.
I bought myself a bikini (yes, I have no brain), convinced myself all the way home in the car it looks fine, and then when I showed hubby he hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation I could see his poor terrified brain going... "If I tell her the truth she'll never have sex with me again, If I don't tell her the truth she'll figure it out eventually and then blame me and never have sex with me again. I am going to lose this badly."
Needless to say its going back to the shop and the purple Target tankini that I've had since 2003 will do me another summer.