I Went Shopping… I Hate Shopping

By jen

Every now and again I have to face my demons and shop. I hate shopping. Do not confuse this with buying things, I do enjoy that a great deal, the actual shopping part I fucking hate. In the hierarchy of the Hell of Shopping a la Dante you have the following…

1. Getting Fuel: It sucks. It is expensive. It smells funny and will get on your shoes.


2. Grocery Shopping: A necessary evil but hell nonetheless


3. Sam’s Club on a Saturday: You are starting to get into real pain and torture here.


4. Shoe shopping: I love shoes very much, but i hate shopping for them. I want a shoe fairy to deliver them perfectly fit and slightly slutty, even my Pumas I like sexy.


5. School Shopping: Ugh…


6. Shopping involving a gift registry of any kind: Come to my shower or event and bring a gift. Not just any gift; some ridiculously overpriced toaster I selected because you are not to be trusted to get me something good.


7. Jean Shopping: I am 5’3 and a petite or short is still generally too long. I have an ass AND a waist, this must be some cosmic anomaly because no one is apparently shaped with both. It seems if you have an ass you must look like a corndog and be without a waist. If you have a waist you must be ass-challenged. I would rather suck The Barbed Cock of Satan than shop for jeans.


8. Wal Mart: Sweet Mother of God, there is only one level of hell worse than this…


9. Bra Shopping: Fucking makes me insane and so the blog entry begins…

I started out the day driving my kids out to Columbus to meet my mom at the halfway point to her house. She is taking them for the next two weeks. Yay! They will have a ball and get to do some fun stuff and have Granny and Granddad spoil them.

The trip was pretty uneventful and i was back home by 2:30pm. That is when things started getting hinky. Decided to drive over to The Shops at La Cantera for a few reasons. Namely they have a Kona Grill and I was hungry for sushi. Secondly, they have Dillard’s, Macy’s, and some other overpriced stores. Also, let it be known the outside temperature was roughly equivalent to the surface of the sun. I parked in the first spot I found because if i have to spend 30 minutes looking for a good parking spot I am just going to leave and say, “fuck it…”

Hit Dillard’s first looking for bra’s and panties as well as wanting to look at the jeans. I will reserve my screed about jeans for another entry, this one is all about The Boobs and how badly it sucks to buy bras when you have a rack of epic proportion.

I headed over to the lingerie department at Dillard’s and started scooping up everything in my size and a size bigger. For the record I started this day believing I am a 38ddd. I should have known I was in trouble when the first fairly pretty bra I picked up was labled, “38DDD” and had two hooks on the back closure. Anyone out there with tits bigger than a B cup needs three hooks. If you are bigger than a D cup anything less than four is a recipe for disaster. People could be hurt, children frightened, sea level effected and talk about global climate change…

Anyway, this cute little frilly number had two hooks which made me giggle and it had this weird pucker at the tips. This pucker was obviously for women with tits tipped like elf shoes.

It was soon apparent these two-hook wonders were for women who bought their 38DDD guns, not the homegrown kind, because they stand up on their own and need nothing in the way of support. Basically it is just boob decor, no functionality just window dressing. I found one that had four hooks and tried it on. This brings me to my first complaint about the Bra industry…

WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THIS MINIMIZER EFFECT? Because they are big I should want to smash them? Fuck off. I love my rack, it is delightful and balances my ass. Why the fuck would I want to make them smaller?

So Dillard’s was a no go and we went on to lunch. Kona Grill where I had Miso soup and Sushi! Took a picture of the Sushi we ordered…

Clockwise from the top: Atlantic Roll: Baked salmon w/motoyaki sauce & cucumbers, topped w/tempura flakes & eel sauce. Dragon Roll: Crab Special Roll topped w/ eel, eel sauce & shredded seaweed because I fucking LOVE eel and eel sauce. Rainbow Roll: no it isn’t ghey, just pretty. California roll topped w/ tuna, salmon, shrimp, yellowtail & avocado. It was all excellent as usual. I love Kona Grill.

Afterward we found this shop called Buckle which I had been wanting to check out because they sell Affliction and Sinful t-shirts and hoodies. Jen needs a hoodie and a t-shirt that says Sinful in big letters something fierce! Well, good news and bad on that front. Bad news; the v-neck 3/4 Sinful t-shirt is HOT but well my afore mentioned rack is a bit too much for it. To illustrate…

While my husband, the sales clerk and anyone within the seismic radius of my having on this shirt loved it I was not spending 60 bucks on a shirt made of 100% cotton which will shrink. No matter how drool inducing… sorry guys. 60 bucks buys a lot of Yakisoba Noodles for the kids and I am a fan of at least some eye contact, this shirt would get me none.

There was good news, however… The hoodie is delightful, but the one pictured below is a tad tight, the next size up should work like a charm. Not quite as much PSI and torque on the fabric… they didn’t have one up a size though. Bastards… Not to fear! I can order it online!

I am going to call them at the store tomorrow and see if they order it for me if i still have to pay shipping. Then that bad boy is mine all mine!!!

Anyway, I left there mostly happy and The Hubby got a nice Bilabong t-shirt as well. I really really want one of the guys shirts and am tempted to buy one of the tee’s and take it to the little Asian guy who is a god of altering and have him make a slit v-neck and take in the sides… they are awesome shirts… Affliction Clothing. I really want this shirt… and this shirt…

Anyway, left there and decided I was going to hit Macy’s on the bra hunt… This did not go any better. Fucking same shit… two fucking hooks. Ugh. Left there cranky pants but I did get some of my favorite panties of the boy short variety. Yay me!

Went to the last ditch place for bras… Cacique over at The Rim. They at least have four hooks, but they usually are difficult because they tend to be too big around the back and small in the cup. If i was a 42 or 44 life would be sweet, I am not however. Tried on EVERYTHING they had and was ready to leave empty handed. Hubby has since gone to Dick’s Sporting goods for practice tennis balls and returned to find me beat to hell, sweaty, and with a look that said, don’t touch me I am hot and bitchy.

Sales girls says, “Did you find anything? Can I help you?”

“YES! Find me a goddamn bra that will fit my rack and not smash it, armor it like a goddamn Valkyrie or plunge so deep that I have not two, not four, but SIX BOOBS. That is the two as a whole, the two that overflow the cup which is too small, and the two escaping under the armholes!”

She says, “What size did you try?”

“38DDD”

“Did you try a 40DDD?”

“No, it will not be tight enough and crawl up my back.”

“Well you need a 38 F!”

“I didn’t see a 38 F. Do you have a special vault or something where you keep theses unicorn like creatures?”

“Oh no!”

“Am I going to look like grandma moses in her Playtex Cross Your Heart Breast Plate?”

“No, what style do you like?”

“The one’s that fit and the ones that… oh hell, just look!” I flash her at the counter. “I want this one but one that isn’t falling off of me!”

“Balconette! We have that in 38F!”

“Well, darlin’ heart. Can you get it for me?”

“Sure!”

She returns with a bright smile and I snatch it from her hands and disappear into the hell of boiling oil which is the dressing room and it’s musical insanity coming through the speakers. I stripped off my v-neck red t-shirt which had fit that morning but between five dressing rooms, 100 degree heat, and my jerking it off and on had turned into a sack which i could crawl out the neckline on. Very sexy…

I had resorted to a ponytail on the top of my head to get the gobs of hair off my neck and I was cranky pants. I tried the 38F. While we were now down to 4 breasts, we still did not have a bra that fits. I hear The Hubby talking to the clerk outside my dressing room, “Juts get her something that fits, please! Before she goes berserk and starts binding them with duct tape. The world deserves the glory that is her rack, dammit! This is madness!”

I yell from the room, “We are down to four tits! Next!”

Girl walks over to the room as though she doesn’t believe me. I show her… she frowns. “You are right… lemme get another.”

No shit I am right! I have been carrying these bad girls around since 6th grade!

She returns with a nice black bra… 38G

“Try this! I think this will do it!”

I tried it on and was almost brought to tears by the sight of just two breasts! The heavens parted, angels sang, and I was pretty happy for a moment. Then I realized i had to take it off and put on the other bra which was now stretched from the sweat and the shirt which made me look like a ragamuffin. I grumbled, cannot let these folks think you are happy they get all self satisfied and shit.

“This will work, honey. Do you have another one or ten? You always discontinue shit when I find something that works.”

She goes and looks and finds one other… black again with some flowers or some such frilly shit on them. Whatever… it fits. I would take neon rainbow bright at this point.

The last stop was Old Navy where I got a nice black button down and some various other stuffs. I was finally ready to go home and The Hubby was just thanking God no one had died today.

All in all there was success, but really… should it take a whole fucking afternoon to find a bra? Should I have to go through such torture just have find a tit-sling? I am traumatized and tomorrow I am not doing shit all day!