Squished

I have mentioned before the breaking of the underwires in my bras that I seem to do quite often because obviously I have Wonder Boobs and don't know the power my breasts hold. (*cue super hero music*) Well, I was down to two bras - one jersey gray and one black leopard print. (I know, hubba hubba. Shh, though...I'm secretly a sex fiend, but don't tell my husband.) The jersey gray one could be worn under white shirts - granted, thick white shirts, but still white shirts nonetheless. The leopard print, however, cannot. Well, sadly last week I broke the underwire in my hideable bra. I now have ONE BRA, people! And it's leopard print.

Awhile back I bought a sports bra in an attempt to preserve the last two real bras until I could make a Lane Bryant run. I figured that on the days I was staying at home I could wear a sports bra because well, do the kids really need to see my breasts all heaved up and perky?

I have come to a very serious conclusion - Sports bras are not called that because they are for wearing during sports. They are called that because it's a workout to get into one.

And do I even need to go into the fact that when I wear one I have a Uniboob? A UNIBOOB, people! Granted, as I said, the kids don't need to see perk and definition, but I do! It's disheartening to see my ample bosom squashed down into a rather benign looking hump on my chest.

And last week, Tater bounced a quarter off my Uniboob. It went pretty far, too. Of course, I laughed, but inside I was crying.