This weekend while Hubs and I were out of town, I took advantage of being in civilization to shop for a new sports bra. It was just time. I love the one that I have but now that I’m hitting the gym everyday I really needed a backup so that I could stop washing the one I have like a crazy person every other night.
I went to the store and grabbed a couple of styles and sizes with the help of sweet and teeny-tiny sales clerk who probably wasn’t even 21. I got into the dressing room and quickly decided which bra I wanted but The Girls were DYING. They couldn’t breathe and neither could I, so I stuck my head out the door.
Skinny Girl: Do you need another size?
Me: Yeah, this is a 38C and I think I need a 38D.
(Yes, I realize I’ve lost all sense of propriety and decency by talking about my boobs on the intranets. Ask me if I care. Hint: I don’t.)
SG disappears for a minute and comes back sticking a bra in the doorway.
Skinny Girl: Here, this is a 34D. Try it.
Me: Um. If the 38C was too small, that’s definitely not going to fit.
Skinny Girl: *looks confused*
Me: The cup size is bigger, but the band size is FOUR inches smaller.
Skinny Girl: *still looks confused* Oh.
REALLY? This is not rocket science, y’all. It’s simple math.