I posted a few days ago about wardrobe malfunctions and how I’ve accidentally exposed myself on more than one occasion.
And then it happened again.
Tuesday, I dropped by the Democrat-Gazette’s photo department (I’m a reporter/columnist at the paper), to chat with Kristina, aka Moody Mom. A few minutes into the conversation, Kristina inexplicably fell halfway out of her chair laughing.
“Put it away!” she howled.
I looked down to find that one of the girls had escaped the confines of my bra and was now hanging out of my sundress.
“Eeek!” I shrieked, trying to shove the errant boob back into place before one of the many male photographers wandered back there.
Later, I told Cindy, aka Mom on a Wire, about the incident. She then reminded me of her own straying bosom, known by those of us who witnessed that particular escape as the Boob Explosion.
(Both Kristina and Cindy are describing their own horrifying, humiliating moments of exposure on their blogs today, btw.)
I figure this business of child-bearing is to blame. My two pregnancies and years of nursing left my left breast significantly larger than the right. Once I realized the lopsidedness was permanent, I turned to one of those elderly JC Penny’s sales ladies for help.
“Honey, this one’s a whole cup size bigger than the other,” she marveled.
Bra Lady tinkered with the straps. One of the girls behaved perfectly. The other? Well, Left Boob still appeared to be making a break for it.
“I think this is the best we can do, sweetheart,” Bra Lady said. I couldn’t tell whether she was addressing me or my stubborn, fugitive boob.
I left with a couple of new bras and a sinking feeling that this would be only the first of my body’s betrayals.
Truly, it’s a problem. Managing lopsided cleave requires frequent bra checks and adjustments. And even then, Left Boob still figures out a way to go on the lam.The girls just can’t seem to get along.
What I need is the Alcatraz of bras. Unfortunately, your sturdier bits of lingerie are, well, ugly. It’s clear, however, that lacy and silky are no match for my wandering breast.
Really, my predicament gives a whole new meaning to Girls Gone Wild.