As my body has changed these past few months, so too have my boobs.
Inevitable, I guess, since breasts really are just fatty tissue. As I lose fat, it stands to reason that I will, so too, lose boobage.
Which means that my bras should decrease in size, right? Okay, keep that in mind as you read on.
So, with my existing bras becoming increasingly ill-fitting, I went out and bought a couple of new ones, based on what I assumed my new size to be. And I felt as though I had nailed it. Silly me.
I realized the error of my ways when Change came into my life.
I stumbled upon their boutique back in August, while strolling downtown Toronto. Their super cute retro bikinis caught my eye, as did the giant “SALE!” signs plastered all over the windows. I ventured in.
Little did I know that entering this place meant getting ‘sized’ because their European bra sizes have no relation to the North American standards, and I had no way of knowing what size I was looking for.
The attendant offered to help, asking if I knew my size. I told her. She eyeballed me suspiciously and scrunched her face up. “Nope. That’s definitely not your size.” <um, okay…> She then went and grabbed a couple of bras, without even touching me, let alone measuring me.
I was suspicious. Who was this woman, the boob whisperer???
I made the mistake of looking at the tag, and while the number (centimeters) was still foreign to me, the letter screamed out loud and clear. As if it was lit with neon.
I shouted over the heavy curtain acting as a door across the fitting room opening, “Um…I don’t think this is right. This cup size is way too big.”
She dismissed me, “Ma’am, just try them on.”
I tried the first one. The one with a cup whose letter would be found on the page with Giraffe and Green and Girl in a children’s book.
Colour me Gobsmacked.
Shockingly, it wasn’t a horrible fit, considering it was 4 cup sizes larger than anything that had touched my breasts before that moment.
I asked her what the number meant in ‘normal sizes’, and she said, “32”.
I still don’t understand how I was able to successfully close a 32″ band around my back. Witchcraft, from the other side of the curtain, must have been involved.
I pulled the curtain back, and she gave me the once over. She nodded, mumbled something about me not quite filling the cups in [no shit Sherlock], and asked me to try on the next one. “Trust me, that one will be PERFECT for you.”, she said.
I decided not to even look at the tag on the second one. Why bother at this point. To do so may have forced me to re-evaluate other truths in my life. Like the earth being round.
I fastened the clasp, made sure everything was locked and loaded, and pushed the curtain aside to face my audience of one. (NB*Technically it was a larger audience. All fitting room
victims guests are subjected to the same process — and if timed right, there would be 2 or 3 of us standing there in just pants and bras, awaiting inspection by our respective attendants.)
She clapped her hands together and exclaimed, “Perfect! I knew it!”
I felt like I’d just scored an A+ on a math test.
Curiosity got the better of me. “Um, quick question…what size is this?”
Her: By American standards, it’s a 34F ma’am. But you could actually get away with a 34E in many of our styles.
Me: Are there any styles that would let me get away with a 36D?
Her: Oh no ma’am. I know that’s the size you think you are, but trust me, this is your size.
If this post has you rethinking your knowledge of your own boobs (and how could it not??), then you can do the at-home measurement test provided by Change, as well as a different method, provided by our friends over at Victoria’s Secret.
The funny thing is, when I use the Change method, I do come up with the crazy size they told me I was. But then when I use the Victoria’s Secret method, I get the size I thought I was originally (okay, maybe a smaller number and a bigger letter, but at least it’s still in the same ballpark).
I’m still skeptical as to why it’s only the high-end specialty bra shops (not just Change, but many others as well) that would lead every (average) women to believe she has the breasts of a porn star.
Is there a conspiracy going on? I’m all for a good conspiracy theory.
Happy bra shopping, and…