if you frequent this blog, you may recall a certain post in which i announced my coming-of-age: going to a proper bra fitting and purchasing the appropriate undergarment for my not-so-teen-like-anymore bosom. i also learned during that awakening that quality bras can easily put you back some mulah. like many things, quality comes with a price.
over these last few months of feeling lovely and womanly and outright perky, i have gone at lengths to take care of my support system. i refuse to wear my big-girl bras (at least the quality ones) to work for fear they will get stretched out from all the activity on the unit. if anything, the trusty sports bra is the better option since, most days, i feel like i'm running a marathon. i also try to store my pretty, big-girl bras in their own corner of my undergarment drawer so as to prevent them from getting crushed or lost in the abyss.
now you see, everything is fine and dandy with this extra TLC, but i have to be honest here: i hate how they have to be washed by hand!
long gone are the days of arranging all my dirty clothes into a single pile for washing. i used to combine my pile with g's, separate the whites from colors, and throw them into the machine in one fell swoop. thirty minutes on the timer, and out they would go for drying. that was it. i was free to live life uninterrupted.
now that i am a big, big girl, i have to fish for my "quality" bras, separate them, take them to the sink, and wash them by hand. and that's not all! they then have to be air-dryed. it's such a stinkin' process, i almost regret investing in these lady-like bras. the extra time to wash them feels so cumbersome.
but then i have to remember that i am 26, and i am a big, big girl, and when you become a big, big girl, you have to accept the responsibilities. so there is my tantrum. i am finished. and now i will go wash my bra.
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