Have you ever had your breasts measured?

I don’t mean like you cup them in your hands, and guess what size they are…

Or you take a bra off the rack at the store, and see if it fits.


I mean have you ever actually gone to a REAL store where some old lady, or skinny ass bitch gets you in front of a mirror…and takes a tape measure and spins you around….and sizes up your BOOBIES!

Have you ever?!! 

Just answer the question, it’s not that hard. Either you have, and you are wearing the right size bra…or you haven’t, and your tits are saggin’ around town in a Target special. Listen, I’m not judging, I am simply pointing out the obvious. And tits are important! They are the first thing a guy sees when he is talking to you. ha. Like I notice every damn time I’m having a conversation with these Match-Men.

Hey, you!!! I’m up here!! MY FACE IS UP HERE!!!

Right. My eyes… look into my eyes….haha.

So, today, I decided it’s time to make a few solid changes in my life. Out with the old, and in with the new. I decided…as I’m walking through the mall, that it’s time to purge. A pantie-purge if you will. Now that I’m back in the dating world, it’s time to get rid of all my mommy-unders, and bring on the sexy shit! Ok, I’m not gonna lie. I have been wearing thongs for my entire life. But come on, girls. They have been the same thongs I’ve been wearing for decades. And the same bras. And the same old un-sexy crap. I wanna look hot when my fat ass gets naked! Don’t you? And I wanna be wearing a bra that fits my tits, not a bra that looks like my Grandam Sylvia could borrow it! Lord! Oprah says, it’s what’s underneath that’s most important, right? So, dammit…I just walked my ass into Vicki’s this morning, and dropped a pretty penny on the skimpiest shit I could find!!! HOOORAY!!

This 22-year old little idiot, I mean girl. came into the dressing room with me…which was totally not an invasion of my privacy at all, really. And she told me she was my “Dream Angel Specialist”. Okay, maybe I made that up. Maybe she said she was my “Bra Bitch” or, “Tiffany”…but whatever, she was fucking annoying. She was a size 2, and I wanted her to choke on her earpiece she was using to “call the back for another size”. Kill, kill…kill. No, actually she was lovely. And I think she might have had wings. And a halo. And fake tits. Anyways, she pulled out her tape measure, and told me to face her, and hold my arms out. Then she wrapped it around my boobs. Ok, a little weird, but trust me, I’ve had worse done. And she smiled. A creepy little smile…like she knew something I didn’t.

I’m like, “Bitch do not mock me. I know my size. I bought these bad-boys!” Then she said, “You are a 34DD.” WHHHOOOAA. Bitch please! I am not a 34DD! I swear I almost slapped her in the face. I said, with a little snip in my voice, “Ummm, Tiff, I actually had these done…and I am a 36C.” And she’s all like, “NO, you are a 34DD”. And I’m all like, “NO, I’m a 36C.” And she starts getting all Victoria’s Secret Specialist on me! So, I start going all Detroit on her! Then, she actually told me that I should trust her, and that she sizes women for a living. A living!! Hmmm. Trust her?

Ok, Tiff.  Go ahead. Make my day.

Bring out your Dream Angel Bras and let’s see just how good you think you are!

So she did.

And I started trying on these lacy little numbers. And you know what? Tiff the Dream Angel Girl was spot on! My boobs were in need of a change. A little upgrade! The DD was too big, duh. And the C was too small….but the D was just right! I felt like flippin’ Goldilock’s and the Three Bras! I was so happy with my instant lift, my mood was lifted, too! And I got new colors, and lace ones… and then I picked out new panties. Omg. I hate that word. Panties. Almost as much as the word moist. UGHHH. And moist panties is the worst thing that could ever be said, like EVER. I’m totally off subject, but what else is new around here? I came home, and cleaned out my drawers. I took all my stupid, dumb, old…gross shit, and tossed it! And I felt great. No, I felt better than great. I felt FAB!

I felt, fresh. And new. And ready to start over. See what a pantie-purge can do for a girl? Shit, all y’all it’s the little things in life. Just a few new bras to give you a lift. Lift your boobs, lift your spirits…lift the corners of your mouth. I got a whole bunch of really shitty news over the past few days. And I know a lot of y’all did too. Our friends, or families…people we know and love…hurting, or dying. Sick. Sad. I’ve been sad. I was going to blog tonight about not taking life for granted. But instead, I chose to write about my new undergarmets. lol. It’s just the little things that can make you smile, if you let them. Live each day like it’s your last. Smile, love….and laugh.

And kiss, lots and lots of kissing.

Oh, and just be happy. ;)

xo j

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