The Pink Jellybaby

(some facts may have been disguised to protect my identity save my dignity save me from further embarrassment)

So, on Friday, as well as other things, I decided that I simply must head up to Regent Street and  pop in on the lovely Bravissimo ladies and get my self properly checked out – by which I mean measured (and embarrassed). After asking for an appointment and getting a swift once over from on of them to decide if my ladies were big enough to be in the shop in the first place…we got going….

Bravissimo Lady: “What size do you wear at the moment?
PJB: “Well, a 34 oranges. Although I think I need a smaller back but a 32 seems too tight.”
BL: “Just from looking at you, you’re a lot bigger than oranges. I’d say cantaloupe melons.”
PJB: *horrified*
“CANTALOUPES?!? No way”
BL: “You’re definitely a 32…possibly a 30…and I think cantaloupes or BIG cantaloupes”
PJB: “But they don’t look that big, they just look like oranges or even apples.”
BL: “You’d be surprised, let me go and get you some to try on.”

And after having to actually get them out in front of her (yes boys, really! I’m so glad I still have a bit of a tan!!)…well, I hate to say it  but she was right. I am in fact a 32 BIG cantaloupes…how wrong can you be?!

(I must say though, I’m impressed that she didn’t even need to measure, she just KNEW)

They can no longer just be boobs, or breasts, or tits…no, it’s in a whole other league. Although not big enough to have their own solar system, they’re just bigger than I’d like… I was fond of my oranges, or what I thought were oranges. 
I mean, perhaps I wouldn’t mind as much if they actually looked the size they are, but they don’t…it’s just an annoyance when trying to buy bras now, it’s not like I suddenly have glamour model worthy boobs.

So, I now have in my possession, two hugely unsexy objects that are supposed to be bras. More like hats for conjoined twins….which, I suppose is what I have.