Journey of bra self-discovery

Bras are tricky things. You think you know your size…then somebody turns your world upside down. The phenomenon has happened to me twice. The first occasion was in gr. 9 with some girlfriends. We were changing in one of their bedrooms and I was wearing a bra I had ordered from the Sears catalogue. It was a B cup, but resembled a C cup. I’ll never forget being told that it was obviously too big on me. It was a troubling occasion, and afterwards I became very conscious of how small I was. Every pool trip, every school dance, and every change room in the mall verified what I had been told (and began to think).

You have small, insignificant breasts.

La Senza also pointed this out whenever I looked up at their walls of tanned, plump, perfect breasts. What confused me was that a not-so-helpful employee at La Senza had “measured” me. As in, she quickly and ineptly placed measuring tape around my waist and breasts and told me I was a B cup. That was it. Simple, I thought. It was to be my category. I’m a B. So that’s what I bought, unquestioningly, although I had a sneaking suspicious that I was more in the A category. Bra shopping turned into a strange type of deceitful activity. It never felt quite right. Then I started purchasing A-cup bras that weren’t completely comfortable. “There,” I thought, “This is what I should be wearing.”
Then I visited a wonderful boutique this weekend called Secrets from your Sister, at the corner of Bloor and Bathurst, and my notions of bra shopping completely changed all over again. But this time for the better.

A bra sale was underway, so of course the place was packed with ladies lusting after the perfect lingerie on racks. We signed up for a bra fitting and set out to investigate the merchandise. Pink and lacy, black with polka dots, and a majestic, red striped beauty looked down at us from walls of brassieres.
When my name was called I was ushered into the back of the store behind a curtain into a partitioned off sanctuary of bra self-discovery. The woman measuring me was named Deb, and after adjusting a measuring tape around my frame and bust in a deliberate, unhurried manner she proceeded to bring me bras to try on, much like a waitress serving delicate pastries. The first was a Betsey Johnson, black, lacy looking number with pink bows connecting parted straps at my shoulders. The size was a B cup, 32 waist. The bra I had arrived wearing that day was an A cup, 34 waist, so I was a little skeptical.
I tried it on and it fit like a dream, but the band was a little snugger than I was used to. Deb returned and carefully adjusted the straps, looking it over carefully, like a shrewd-eyed craftsman. She told me to shrug my shoulders, lift my arms, or pull them across my breasts to determine whether the fit felt comfortable while I was in motion, or if it rose onto my breast tissue. When I stretched my right arm over to the left, the cup, which rose a bit high, poked into my arm. So that was a no go.

As more bras were procured I learned that there are many variables I had never considered when buying bras. For starters, the waistband of the bra is the foundation or the anchor of the entire unit. If it doesn’t sit parallel to your waist, or it isn’t snug enough, it will rise up and so will the straps, no longer supporting your breasts. As Deb so aptly put it, “You might as well pay to hold them up with your hands all day.” So apparently choosing a 34 waist had been a mistake, which Deb proved by stretching the band out from my waist to show how easily it would move up my back. Strike number one, but at least I was learning. Bra bands do tend to stretch anyway, explained Deb, so a snug fit is the smartest way to go.
She also surprised me when she delivered a chocolate-brown C cup bra, which covered my breasts entirely, making me feel more comfortable, if a little lost in a larger cup. I told Deb how I had always felt that a C cup was for bigger girls, which I was obviously not. She explained how mainstream stores don't provide adequate sizes, and that women with larger breasts are often stuck wearing double D’s when in reality they are closer to a G cup. Bra size does not determine your breast size, she explained. If one day you wear a B cup, that doesn’t make you a B cup. Bra designs vary. One may fit you in a C or a B, depending on a number of variables, but the comfort is what counts, not how small or big you believe you are. She said something that I found quite poetic…as though it could have belonged on a brassiere-shaped plaque, “You wear the bra, the bra doesn’t wear you.”
What I took away from the experience was an understanding that bra sizes shouldn’t determine how I feel about my breasts, any more than my jean size should influence how I feel about my legs. It helped me to feel better about myself, and closer to banishing one more self negating attitude. Deb gave me a lot of great advice, and her unwavering attention to educate me, find me the perfect fit, and adjust each bra so that it sat properly on my body (without pressuring me to purchase anything) felt like a pampering experience. Some of us can feel so uptight about others seeing us or coming into personal contact with us while we’re in our lingerie (unless it’s a lover) but somehow I felt comfortable, and less self-conscious than I thought I would be.
I definitely suggest that every woman get a professional bra-fitting, especially if you have any doubts about your size, or if you just want to learn more about what you’re wearing every day to hold up your ta-ta’s. The atmosphere at Secrets from your Sister is very friendly and open, with a beautiful décor, helpful employees and very lovely bras, even though they can be a bit pricey (keep a lookout for sales!). Think of it as something positive you can do for your breasts, your body, or even your self esteem.