I TOTALLY Got To Second Base at Dillard's

Two blog posts in a relatively short amount of time? You're welcome.

Here's what happened:

In the last week I have snapped TWO under-wires in my favorite bras, seriously... you know the feeling. Just sitting at your desk minding your own business and SNAP! I have worn the same type of bra from Victoria's Secret for about 6 years now, it really was pretty comfortable and fit me well... but something always happened to them... the under-wire snapped, the elastic came apart, the under-wire popped out of the side... not to mention they are usually about 45 bucks. Don't tell me it wasn't the right size either! I totally didn't have back fat or boob spillage, and I had been measured. Anyway... after this whole fiasco I decided that I was done... so I said goodbye to my beloved bra (and yes... it looked EXACTLY like that on me... Jealous?):

Fast forward to the next day... I decide that Dillard's is going to be my first stop. I buy perfume and purses there, why not a bra? This is when it all began. I started browsing the racks at Dillard's and I find the softest bra ever, so I just grab 2 in my **Victoria's Secret** size and I'm thinking I'm going to be on my way. I'm checking out and the lady is staring at my chest and she says "I need to measure you, this bra is not going to fit." I respond with "oh, I've been fitted before, these should be fine," I'm on my lunch hour... I didn't feel like messing with this. So the lady finally says "Let's go in the dressing room... you don't even have to take your shirt off!"

We get into the dressing room and she measures me and then says "lift up your shirt." My face probably looked like I was petrified "old lady say meh?" She then repeats herself: "lift up your shirt... I need to see the bottom of your bra." At this point all I can think of is that she promised I could stay fully clothed. She then proceeded to poke and prod at my bra and all of the contents therein... she didn't even offer to buy me a drink, which is just rude. I'm not a whore, lady.

Anyway... she stares and measures for awhile and then says something that literally made me gasp:

"Honey... you're an F."

WHAT THE HELL IS AN F?! Is that even a real cup size? She tells me that the particular bra that I'm trying is a DDD, which is close to an F... for the love of heaven... I'm going to get my own freak show on TLC.

Anyway... long story short. I got felt up at Dillard's and I'm waiting for the carnival sideshow people to call me any second and offer me a position.