I have dropped some weight this year (go me!) and realized this morning that some of my clothes are too big. Mostly I can cope – that’s what belts are for, right? Plus I have a range of sizes in my closet, even after decluttering and donating a lot of my closet. Some pieces I knew I was close and I like a lot, so I kept them for this day. I still have a ways to go on my optimum health and fit babe status, but there will still be cute clothing for sale when my whole body (waistline and but in particular, though) are a size or two smaller.
However, when it comes to foundational undergarments – aka bras – I have to buy new. And I have to buy them NOW.
I have no idea how or why this happens, but it seems like they all require replacement at about the same time. If I break a single underwire in a single bra, I may as well plan on replacing all of them, because like good soldiers they will all fail inside a month. I try to spread purchases out, buy one or two at a time every few months, but it seems like when they conspire and develop pack mentality in my underwear drawer and all need to be replaced at once. Years ago I found a Wacoal style that works for me, so I tend to order a couple of them every year, and this year I may be back to both a smaller cup and band size. It was an expensive purchase in a range of sizes and testing a couple of other styles as well, but I know I won’t keep all of them and can try them on in the privacy of my own home and with various different tops and dresses.
M’s eyes about popped out of his head when he glanced over at the total of my order. I explained the method to my madness (again – we’ve been together/married a long time and this is absolutely not his first rodeo) and also pointed out the pair of red lace panties and matching bra I threw in, just because he also grouses about the nude color that dominates so much of my underwear drawer. 0Why not white, he whines routinely when doing the laundry? I have to wash these inbetween colors separately. Ummm … honey, please just leave those to me, kay? They are like bathing suits – no dryer, ever.). Slightly reassured by the pretty red things, he wandered off muttering about how tiny clothes cost so damn much money.
Hey, it’s the premium price that comes with being a woman. I’d think he would be used to it by now.