Lost and mortified

My life has been absolutely completely taken over by the tv series lost. We have now ordered 4 seasons and we are currently watching season 2. It is ALL we do. I dream about it every night and when I compare everyone I know, see or meet to the characters on lost. I LOVE LOST! With that said, I'm sure you know why I haven't been posting consistently. I've been watching episode after episode of lost.

I do have a few funny stories to share with you though...

Teeny tiny boobs and strange growing hair.

I have not bought new bras since before I began my three year stint of making babies, having babies and nursing babies. My boobs have been dramatically deformed from all of this. So, I finally decided it was time to go get some new bras. Me, Chris and Peyton took off for the mall because I had a wonderful $10 off coupon for Victoria's Secret. We get there and start browsing around and I pick out a few bras in "my size" and take them to the fitting room to try on.

On my way in, the lovely store lady asks me if I need sized. I kindly decline wondering to myself, "What the hell does that even mean? I don't want this little girl with her perfect hair, make-up and young body in here feeling me up and judging my two different sized boobs and my old lady stomach." So, I try on the first bra which doesn't quite fit right. I call out to chris to go and get me a different size. Him and Peyton go and find what I had requested and promptly bring it back. I try it on and it doesn't look right either. I try on the other bra I had brought in with me and that doesn't fit right either. So, again I send Chris and Peyton out to hunt down a different size. They bring it back and again it doesn't look right.

At this point, I start to think that maybe I don't even know what size I am any more. So, I regretfully press the little buzzer to call the lady. She comes to the door and asks me in her sickly sweet voice, "What'd ya need, hon?" I'm peeking out the crack in the door, standing in the bra that just won't fit right, and tell her that I think I need sized. No problem she says and comes on in with her measuring tape.

I now know that getting measured is not the violating process that I had imagined. Nobody comes in and starts grabbing your ta tas to check your bust size. They simply use a measuring tape and measure above your bust (or in my case, my lack of bust). She infoms me that I am a 32 A.

I am speechless..........

Where did they go? Did my children suck the life out of them while rootin for their milk?

Ok. Whatever. They're gone.

As she is measuring above my boobs, I am standing in the bra that is too big. Therefore, you can see right into it and her face is right above my bosom reading the numbers on the tape. Let me explain that while my mother is all Italian, I look completely like my welsh, irish, german father. But, my mother bestowed upon me the wonderful charm of Italian nipple hairs. Don't laugh. And of course, I had been out of town for the last week and severely busy the week before that, so I had not gotten to remove the little hairs from their home. So, she is face to face with the few dark coarse hairs that in my eyes are big enough to wrap around her neck and choke the life out of her.

I am mortified.

If she noticed, she did not say a word or let on that she even saw them waving out at her.

Anyways, I got two new bras and I'm happy that my little girls are now supported instead of just resting in their little mobile homes.