A tale of two boobs

But first, I need to whinge.

Either I have a virus or our kiddly is having a growth spurt ... but in any event, I'm pretty sure I'm about to die. Last night I crashed into bed at 7.30pm, woke up this morning not entirely sure where I'd placed my head ... until I bolted to the bathroom and threw up more than I've eaten in the last week ... then it turned up abruptly, on top of my shoulders, thumping like it was going to burst at any moment. Nice. I even resorted to drugging the baby (paracetamol, never fear) which I really am loathe to do. I know it's safe blah blah, but I'd just really rather not while I'm growing the little treasure. I figure though that when me sucking it up is more likely to cause kiddly distress than me drugging it, then drugs it is. The throwing up continued all day too. Wicked. (It's just a little bit wrong when you hunt high and low for soup for lunch because soup just might stay down, and you fall on a cafe counter in grateful relief because not only do they have soup, but their soup has no chunks in case you do throw it up.)

Now ... my boobs.

I bought my first new bra to cope with pregnancy boobs last week. In some kind of weird cosmic twist, I don't feel like shopping. Not even a little bit (oh, except for today ... there was a moment on my soup hunt where me and the most gorgeous pair of boots on the planet met in a moment of instant love and the greatest joy). I'm sure it will pass, probably quite soon ... but in the meantime, I needed a new bra. So, I bought it online. I know! I know! Bras are not something you can buy online. Or, they probably could be, but in this instance, online shopping was a bit of a disaster. The husband measured me up and told me my size according to their sizing chart, which I told him was complete bollocks and proceeded to order a size which sounded far more reasonable bearing in mind that my boobs hadn't grown a smidge.

My thinking was that as my boobs hadn't grown, my current bra was hideously uncomfortable because my torso was expanding therefore meaning that my current size was too tight, and pregnant boobs appear to have a severe disliking for underwire too. So, I went up a body size and down a cup size - by going up a body size it would mean that the size cup was bigger anyway so that'd sort the difference out, there'd be no evil underwire (pregnancy and maternity bras as a rule are under-wire free) and my poor strangled body would be relieved of the strangled-ness which was the main goal.

I guess where I fell down is that size-wise he's perving at my boobs, but I'm seeing my current boobs in the context of my blardy great stomach, so they still look the same as they did before to me. So anyway, the size I ordered was back-ordered, and arrived on Tuesday, and of course, could I squeeze my boobs into it .....? Nooo.

Me, showing the husband my newly encased boobs and trying to make it look like I'm not in mortal agony "I got my new bra! What a relief!" (well, it was a little bit because it fitted me much better around the torso)

The husband, looking rather skeptical "That looks a bit small"

Me, sighing "Ug. It is. Bollocks"

The husband, most supportive "Hahahahahahaaha!! Ha!"

So, I phoned the store and arranged to go there to be fitted properly.

Obviously, the store was in a suburb I've never been to and I got completely and utterly lost in crap rush hour traffic and an hour later, in the midst of a total pregnancy-hormone-uncomfy-boob fueled meltdown, turned around and found my way home in the sure knowledge that I'd have to try and get there again the next day. Much map studying and concentration a day later, I did find the store, did get measured up ... and headed home, a full week later, with very relieved boobs, happily supported by the size that the husband told me to buy in the first place.

Grumble.

It really annoys me that a bloke had a better idea of what size to get than I did. Really annoys me. But then, I imagine he spends far more time studying them as a general rule than I do. Plus he's been sitting there for the last 3 months willing them to grow. Bless.

Now, I think I need to go and have a sleep.