A few weeks back, I was holding up barstools with my friend Thunderbird. Because we're classy, we started talking about boobs. Because I'm classy, I mentioned that my size is 34A. Because he's even classier, he pointed out that most women wear too-large bands and too-small cups, and that there was no way that 34A could be my size. (I swear I saw him dig out a measuring tape and a jewelry loupe, but that could have been my beer-soaked imagination.)
Well, I can never resist a challenge (unless it involves oars, enclosed spaces, or reality television). So we bet dinner and drinks over whether I wear the correct size. Because, among friends, nothing is more important than brassieres. (Well, among my friends, anyway...is this why I don't have a lot of friends?)
Tuesday was my Measure of a Woman Day, and I pottered over to the local Vicky's Secret. I located a salesclerk, and requested that my measurements be taken.
Me: I think my bra size has changed. Would you take my measurements?
Clerk: Why would it have changed?
Me: I graduated high school. And filled out. Uh, about fifteen years ago.
Clerk: OK, set your bag down and stand over here please.
I realize, in horror and amazement, that this woman plans on strapping a measuring tape athwart my chest in the middle of a crowded store, downtown, during a sale...
Me: Uh, can we do this in a fitting room?
Her: It's over your clothes.
Me: Humor me.
Moments later, she whips out the (pink!) measuring tape, and she proceeds to measure me.
Her: You're a 33 band size. (more fiddling) And you're halfway between an A and B.
Me: So, my bra size is 33 A/B? That doesn't even exist. Hey, does that mean my bra opens the portal to John Malkovich's brain?
Her: Er, no. What that means is that you can wear a 34A or a 32B. (Note: Those are actually identical...I've been wearing either size for years)
Me: So, I'm wearing the correct size!
Me: I WIN!!! I just won a bet.
Her: Congratulations! (seeing me open my phone) Are you texting someone to tell them your bra size?
Me: Um, yeah. (pause) That cool?
Upon further reflection, however, I may not have won. And that's where I need your help. I need you to weigh in on whether I won the Great Bra Size Bet of '09. Factors to consider:
1. This is not the cheapest of bets. Thunderbird and I both drink like a fish fell in love with an Irish dockworker, had two half-fish/half-dockworker babies, and those babies grew up to be us. The bar tab shall be mighty.
2. Technically speaking, my bra size is 33 A/B. Wearing a 34A is a workaround...so, does that mean my size really is 34A? What is the nature of reality?
3. Victoria's Secret isn't the most scientific way to git 'er done. Should Thunderbird demand a, um, recount?
4. Why on Earth would anyone bet their bra size?
So, folks, dinner, drinks, and the final shards of my dignity weigh in the balance. Consider wisely.
Who won the bet, me or Thunderbird?