There comes a time in the lingerie blogger’s life where she has to look at her own bras/life/choices and figure out what in the hell she’s been talking about. I started my bra journey confidently assuming I was a 30F. The first properly fitting bra I had was the Lily in a 30F in that mysterious parrot print, and it was the first time I ever looked at my boobs in a mirror and went – OH so bras actually should DO something? It was an inspiring moment and the sheer rush and joy of it – looking in the mirror and seeing a noticeable difference in where my bust was situated – spurred me forward. I wanted everything in that size. I wanted boobs up to my chin. I wanted boobs up to my forehead. I just wanted really, really, super lifted boobs, and having seen the success of the 30F Lily, I was positive that I could get the same results over and over again.
Here I am, two years later, with a badly-kept blog, and I am actually less confident in my sizing ideas. What happened?
There is something to be said about confidence and ideas. They can convince you into anything, especially when your ideas aren’t very good and are based on strange, abstract notions of bra-fitting that you picked up second hand on reddit. That isn’t to say that knowledge or that reddit wasn’t valuable – it definitely was, and it was really where I must give credit for my love and fascination with lingerie and bras. I didn’t realize bras could be so damn cool until then, but they are SO cool. What I’m getting around to telling you, dear friends, is that I was so confident in my size because I didn’t know any better.
I didn’t know that my straps-tightened-to-Hades were symptoms that it was the wrong fit. I didn’t know that underwires hurting my sternum meant I was probably in the wrong size. I didn’t know wrinkles at the bottom of my cup meant I should probably size down – in fact, I thought it meant that my boobs were so powerful that they were PUSHING the cup down. This isn’t actually that crazy an idea, but it wasn’t correct for me in many of my bras – my boobs don’t have that power. They’re very soft and they’re total assholes.
Two years later, though, I have a much better idea of what fit is. I’m also more precise and particular about what a good fit is. To be truthful, I don’t consider any of the bras I currently own to actually be amazing fits. I love my Marcies, but I have to tighten the hell out of them in order to avoid the dreaded gaping on top. I love my Comexims, but the plunge is basically too tall on the sides – and the apex, situated up so high, does not align with my apex (the plunge also doesn’t offer enough immediate projection, which creates the scenario where my boobs actually ARE pushing the cups down to make room for themselves). I love… Well, let’s get real: I have like 2 main brands and I’m not generally adventurous. I’m the type of person who orders the same meal at the restaurant every time because I know I like it and I don’t want to risk wasting cash on something I might not like. This definitely applies to bras and it brings me to write this post today.
I am a slightly more seasoned accurately-bra-fitting (?? does anyone know my meaning? who knows) lady at this point in time. I look at bras I once was convinced fit me and realize they don’t fit me – not only that, but they never did. My 30F Lily had NEVER FIT ME because I was not a 30F. I was a different size that did not know what a good fit was and thus couldn’t identify the problems in fitting. I look back at the Avocado bras I loved so, so, so dearly and I almost want to cry, now, because they also never fit and all I want in my life is a Kyoto again. Bra gods, hear my prayers; this lady wants a Kyoto in a size that ACTUALLY fits and good gravy I have no idea what that size IS.
This leads me to my current dissatisfaction with my bra drawer and some of my resignation towards it. There are some bras I can’t see myself giving away in the near future simply because they were difficult to find and will only be MORE difficult to find in the future. The Comexim Luna is a great example of this – the 60H I have is definitely too shallow and gets empty space at the bottom with quadding up top because my boobs see things I like and quickly misbehave. The Comexim Green Velvet is also this way – I wanted it for a very long time and when it was listed second hand, I basically shook my fist of digital cash at it and screamed a lot (with joy, I assure you) when I finally got it. The grey Ewa Michalak I have is another example – it was difficult to get in the first place and my unending/undying/eternal love of grey prevents me from going “hey this is literally too big and I have to stuff it with cookies to make it fit and the damn thing doesn’t even have a cookie holder so I better just hope the cookies don’t fly out some day”. My blue/pink 30F Lily is another example, still, as is the parrot Lily (my first “fitting” bra). Neither can leave my stock because I realize I can’t replace them in smaller sizes. Two years ago? Maybe. In 2016? Not really.
The thing is that at a certain point, you sort of give in and realize that things will not fit you. This has been some of my thinking. None of my bras are perfect fits and I have resigned myself to that because I can’t replace 100% of my stock. When I someday live the rich woman fantasy, I can, but for now I am definitely not living that fantasy. What I have to bargain with, instead, is how much I am willing to sacrifice. Appearance? Comfort? The actual fit?
In the end, it’s comfort. My Lily’s don’t fit well, sure, but after brief alterations, they are comfortable enough to wear and I forget that they don’t fit – plus, it isn’t obvious under normal clothing that they aren’t an A+ fit (more of a B+, really). My Comexims aren’t perfect, yet I am so happy in how the bands fit that I don’t mind that. I can sacrifice the literal fit so long as I’m basically comfortable and that nothing obscene is happening under my clothes.
Of course, I’d be lying if I said aesthetics didn’t factor into it. I want shit that looks good. If my Claudette Dessous failures are any indication, it takes me multiple (read as: way too many) failures to accept that something I find visually pleasing doesn’t work and never will. That’s a huge reason many ill-fitting bras remain in my drawer and why many have found themselves added to those ranks. Do I ever learn? Will I? Only time will tell.
Anyway, this is a ramble from yours truly. If you’re like me and have been trying to figure out your sizing for a couple of years, you might feel that you know yourself – and your body! – less thoroughly than you thought. I can’t say I have the solution right now, but I can say that it totally sucks.