I am currently 56 years old, so let’s flash back to the morning of my 30th birthday some 26 years ago…….
I don’t know about you, but on that landmark birthday, over night, somewhat like the mysterious arrival of chin hair, I noticed that my right breast had taken the opportunity to lower itself substantially towards the southerly direction of the bathroom floor. Like a spiteful sibling, it also had not invited its sister, the left breast, to come along for the journey.
As a result of traveling solo, my right breast had left me uneven and self-conscious. I had always considered the girls to be twins, but somehow, they were now a blended family of sister and step sister. What the hell happened on the morning that I turned 30… I can never really explain. However, here’s what I can explain some 30 years later.
During menopause, coupled with the stress of retaining an unethical and incompetent divorce law firm, my girls took a turn for the worse. As if menopause wasn’t visually disturbing enough, I got to now witness both “the girls” plan another trip down south. The more stressed, the more they traveled. The more they traveled, the more I stressed. Desperately, I began to seek out some type of a solution that did not require plastic surgery (because I am the biggest chicken in the world).
Visualize the 2 following solutions:
1) As if I’m being robbed for my Louboutin’s, I’m in my bed with both hands up above my head. This quick and simple action causes my boobs to instantly become symmetrically positioned! Albeit a bit awkward, I have also noticed that this works while standing up or sitting down. Eureka! Like a magician creating that perfect illusion, I figured out how to make both girls temporarily appear even. I lovingly entitled this illusion, “Hands up and I won’t shoot”. I know, I know, I’m brilliant, but wait, there’s more…..LOL
2) I also located a very fancy bra shop in Morristown NJ. Rumor had it that there were a trio of blue haired saleswomen who knew how to fit any size breast into any size bra, at any age and under any circumstances. Naturally, upon discovering this news, I immediately headed out to Morristown.
With the precision of skilled fighter pilots, they targeted me as soon as I walked through the entrance door. I didn’t quite know what had hit me at first, but suddenly, I found myself half naked in a dressing room filled with bras and a tag team of elderly ladies. They picked up my girls. They put them in a bra that they knew I would pay any price for, fondled me and then forced me to look at myself in the mirror. Guess what, I looked fucking great, until of course, I took that million dollar bra off and then had to assume the hands up position.
Although the support of my family and friends was much appreciated during my ordeal of hiring the wrong legal counsel, (who completely screwed me by the way), or the decline of my morale as I navigated through the gross physical transformation of menopause, there is certainly nothing to compare to the SUPPORT of an expensive French bra and the women who helped me get even. Too bad they couldn’t help me get even with the attorney. 😉