Baby Steps and Boob Sizes

Yesterday was a pretty good "Spring Training" day.  Did fall into a little Happy Hour celebration for Francine's Birthday, but managed to scoop out two bowls of ice cream without thinking that I totally deserved a bowl myself.  The Caramel Delight was Edy's 1/2 fat, so I could have easily rationalized it; okay I had 2 bites, but I swear that was it!

So I may be an anomaly; but does anyone else's boobs grow when they gain weight?   Now it takes more than 10lbs, but around plus 15, bam; the girls are back.  I know, I've had friends say wah, wah; "you gain your weight in your boobs, so sad for you."  Yea, but the radical change is amazingly weird.  Most of my life I was a 36DD.  Currently, I am a 32C and comfortable.  When I was breastfeeding the boys I was a 40FFF; seriously... I tried recently to buy a bra in Victoria Secret when shopping with my daughter.  Now at Vicky's (if I was cool and 20 something this is what I would call it), I would have to revert back to a much larger size to fit the chicken wings into the bra cup that appear under my arm pits.  These bras are not meant for a more mature womanly body; in fact I think that the young girls that work there must derive some sick pleasure from watching me (a cougar wanna be) start at my bra size (according to the professional Nordstrom bra measuring lady) and quickly work up a sweat trying to find a bra that fits and looks remotely flattering before walking out the door because it all seemed so futile.  I didn't even realize how low they were hanging until I went for a spray tan for a special occasion last summer.  The girl sprayed me as I stood naked except for my thong.  Later, I struggled to figure out what the white lines were across my stomach.  Holy shit; it was my boob marks from the spray tan (news flash; you have to hold them up when getting sprayed).  Now, I don't mind being self deprecating about certain subjects like my boobs; but I don't need any help from the peanut gallery.  So when the person who sees me naked chimes in with "they belong on the cover of National Geographic", I definitely think about a little help from plastic surgery.  I love fake boobs.  They're so pretty.  They're perfect.  They're high.  I'm so envious.  I'm not ruling it out.

Okay, I'm still in my yoga pants.  Jeans still give me shooting gas pains when trying to eat.  I think I'll be good by next week to go back to pants with zippers....join me.