SELF-LOVE
”H
ow’s it going in there?”
asked the overly
optimistic Lane Bryant
associate.
There I was, on display
in an uncomfortably bright
room with a bright pink bra I
had slung over my shoulders,
one boob trying to escape
from the top of the garment.
I could feel my cheeks
turning red and warm from
frustration.
“I think it’s a bit too
small,” I embarrassingly
admitted from the other side
of the dressing room door.
A couple of months prior,
I was wrongly fitted by a
“professional” as a 38DD—
the size I came in wearing—
and now I was locked in a
boob dungeon wearing this
straitjacket of womanhood.
Apparently I’m not alone.
According to PR Newswire,
80 percent of women are
wearing the wrong bra size.
More than half the women
in this world are spending
outrageous amounts of
money on lingerie that
doesn’t even fit them
properly.
This is how it always
goes. I drag myself into a
“
I was locked
in a boob
dungeon
wearing this
straitjacket of
womanhood.
Apparently I’m
not alone.
”
process when it breaks.
That’s the beauty of being a
woman, right?
But this bra fitting was
different. It started out like
the others, yes, but it finally
didn’t end like them.
H
ello, my name is
Jasmine, I’m 24 years
old, and I just found
out my real cup size is a
42DDD.
Puberty hit early for me.
When everyone else needed
training bras, I was already in
the women’s section.
It took me a long time to
be comfortable with the size
of my chest.
I grew up shopping at
Victoria’s Secret, where
girls around my age would
measure me, give me my
“perfect” cup size and then
lingerie store, buy the wrong- shower me in expensive bras
sized bra, pay an exorbitant
that never fit. Now, I’m not
amount for something that
blaming them for putting me
doesn’t fit, and repeat the
in the wrong size. In fact, I