Pulling into the station

June 08, 2005

I was in the bathroom last night, cleaning up (well, it was that or do laundry) and I heard this riiiiiiiip-POP. Then I felt it. Damn bra wire snapped. I knew it was coming, too - you can just tell when it's about to give out on you. So I'm stuck wearing this horrible contraption that is just... Well, the boyfriends like it, but I hate it. It's itchy, it's smooshy, and it's blue with darker blue emboidery. Well, there goes wearing a white shirt today. Or any light colored top for that matter.

So now I have to go bra shopping. I loathe shopping for these things. I do. Boys are lucky - they don't have to deal with these things (although some guys do have to deal with jock straps, which I'm sure are just about as fun as bras when you think about it). It is times like these that I wish that I had a personal shopper. Let her (or him) do this for me, just bring me the results.

Ugh.

Reason 482901 Why Being a Girl Blows stopped here at 1:21 p.m.

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