Like going bra shopping. I need a new bra like I need more coffee – that is, a lot, and it is as much for the benefit of those around me as it is for my own damn good.
Currently, I am wearing a 4-year old stretched out, too small, ugly, natty nursing bra that has faded to a lovely shade of swine, from my first round of breastfeeding, and it is doing not a thing for me, except making my sunburnt shoulders itch. As for my figure, it is riding up and cutting my tits in half, which certainly makes for a lovely silhouette.
So, I should just go get a new bra, right? Yes, but then I have to give up the fantasy that I am still a perky, nubile young thing in a respectable 34B, and accept the fact that some old Russian frau will unceremoniously stuff my lovelies into a contraption that looks more suited to carting around weapons of mass destruction than bosoms, and which forces me to accept that my actual measurements are more stubby than tall-boy. I’m just not ready to give up the fantasy (or the money), even though the flap on my left cup just popped open and hit me in the chin.
The other masochistic nonsense I’ve been considering is taking up jogging. Seriously, who the fuck runs for fun? I run if a) I’m being chased by zombies or b) my child is about to knock over my beer. Otherwise, I prefer not to break a sweat. (This might have something to do with the cause of my fat boobs; see above.) But the ugly truth is that I
Oh, who am I kidding? The laundry often sits there for weeks.
Anyway, I’ve heard that joggers get this thing called
I’ve been advised that the best way to start running (only losers call it jogging), is to walk for five minutes, than run for one. I think I can handle that! How long am I allowed to do that? Six months? Sounds good. It’s like when I used to work as a cashier at Dominion – I kept my, ‘I’m new, please be patient!’ badge on my god-awful blood-coloured polyester straightjacket of a uniform for 2 years. I prefer that one’s expectations of me remain base for as long as possible.
So yeah, running. I can do it for a few minutes a day, I guess. But I’m certainly not going to increase the amount of sweat equity I put in until I get a new bra.
Which will be anytime now, I promise.