In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I detest shopping for bras.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman in possession of ample anatomy, must be in want of a good bra. But the pursuit presents many obstacles for the woman: odd sizing methods, silly store clerks, and an overabundance of designs.
By what method bra sizing was determined, I know not; for its logic is flawed and its practice irregular. Happiness in finding a bra is entirely a matter of chance. Every shop one enters has its own method for fitting, measuring, and sizing; the woman, therefore, has no way to compare the bras from one store to another except by the amateur’s sense of comfort. If I could but know my bra size, everything would become easy.
Store clerks, ignorant of the chests of the other members of their sex, measure one’s chest to provide the extraordinarily helpful knowledge of the size of the bra that one has worn into the store, without giving a real indicator as to the size of one’s natural bust. No woman of sense is ignorant to the particulars of the bra which she wears: its deficiencies, successes, and style. This, at least, allows one to compare the bra worn to the bra on the shelf. We all have a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any store clerk can be.
A woman, if she has the misfortune of having anything larger than a C, should conceal it as well she can; for, it is only through concealment that she may obtain any kind of support for the weight of her chest. Those with smaller chests may not be admired by society, but they are surely envied by the other members of their sex, because for them, the purchase of a bra can be decided based simply on agreeableness of appearance. I, however, shall be miserable if I have not an excellent bra.
Seldom, very seldom does complete security belong to any bra; seldom can it happen that something is not a little loose, or a little misshapen. If the band width is correct, the cup is too small. If the cup fits well, the straps are too loose. The weight of one’s chest seems determined to conquer the vitality of the straps.
The ultimate treachery comes when a great favorite commits an act of violence against the wearer through the snapping of an underwire. Oh, what grief awaits the wearer of such a bra! Solace may perhaps be found in the mutual pain shared by the members of the fairer sex; surely friendship is the finest balm for the pangs of a broken underwire.
Nothing is more deceitful than the appearance of comfort. It is often only carelessness of construction, and sometimes improper hold. There is but one respite from the peril of cups, bands, and underwire: the athletic bra. Though they were designed for use during regular exercise, they are most often worn by women weary of the day who long for temporary relief. There is nothing like wearing an athletic bra for real comfort.
A well-fitting bra is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of. A woman in a good bra is always more agreeable than one in a bad bra. She is satisfied with herself. Her cares are over, and she feels that she may exert all her powers of dressing without malfunction. All is safe with a lady well-bra’ed; no harm can be done.