When my plane touched down in Texas I met my brother and nephew, but we had some time to kill before the memorial service so we stopped at a Barnes & Noble. I expertly noted the book store was connected to a mall, which housed a Victoria's Secret, so I told them I'd meet them in an hour and I was gone. (By the way, VS models annoy me, with their anorexic-looking silicone-pumped bodies, but I do love their bras.)
For the next hour, I was in heaven. I walked out with this ensemble:
When I got home, I was disappointed to discover the wings were sold separately. Bastards.
I think it's safe to say that all of us have engaged in retail therapy from time to time and we each have our particular fetish. I have friends that have the most incredible collections of shoes, handbags, earrings, you name it. (Okay, so the earrings is me again.)
I don't understand all the handbag excitement. I buy one at Target and it lasts me a year or two. I'm the same way with shoes. Then again, I have friends that think bras are strictly utilitarian and cannot understand why I would waste my money on such an indulgence.
In the post childbearing years I felt the same way. A boob was something to heft out of an industrial strength restraint and plant in the mouth of a crying infant. But as my children grew a bit older and I began to reclaim my body, both figuratively (I no longer had tiny people treating it like a jungle gym) and aesthetically (I lost some of the baby fat and found my figure again), pretty bras began to peak an interest in me again. I gleefully waved goodbye to my beige D-cup days and began embracing C-cup sexy.
There are bras for every conceivable mood.
Some are cute and fun
Some are va-va-va-voom!
There are spiky bras
gorgeous French bras I can't afford
and, um, whatever-this-is bras
The funny thing is that no one sees my bras but me. (Well, me and everyone reading this post right now.) But that's not the point. I just like knowing my boobs are cradled in silk and lace gorgeousness. And to be perfectly honest, it's kind of nice having my ta-tas all to myself again.
So what about you? Do you have a bra fetish? Or do you indulge in other forms of alternative therapy? Aw, come one, spill it. After all, I showed you mine.
P.S. I totally want the burgandy and black velvet balconette up near the top. It's calling to me...