Busom Buddy

Over the weekend I went to Asheville for one hell of a bachelorette weekend. One of the things on our to-do list was to swing by Victoria's Secret and buy the bride some lingerie. Also on our to-do list: sit on the floor and eat Mediterranean food (check); make a breast-print painting* (check); smoke a hooka (check); get tarted up and dance with gay boys (check); throw dollar bills at drag queens (double check). Calm down, no one smoked pot. It was only flavored tobacco in the hooka. Geez, MOM. Oh yeah, this post was supposed to be about underwear. My bad. While we were in VS I decided to get a fitting and buy a new bra. You know, to cheer up Blanche and Dorothy. It turns out the girls weren't as sad and small as I thought they were. Yay! All my bras are just old and stretched out. Boo. At first I tried on some supportive, yet practical bras. Then I decided "What the hell" and bought a push-up bra. I normally think push-up bras are unfair false advertisement. But, I'm already married and Steven knows what I'm packing. So I might as well jack 'em up to my chin, right?

Dream Angel bra by VS

This is the bra I got, and I look just as hot in mine. HA. I'm not always a fan of lace, but this seemed like it would lay smoothly and not be bumpy under a t-shirt. Plus, I liked that it has a whiff of naughty french maid. I find it's easier to justify the purchase of a $50 bra if it looks sexy. Men don't tend to look at receipts if they're drooling.

*You know how you would make art in elementary school by carving a potato then using it as a stamp? Well, it's kind of like that. We painted our boobs then smooshed them on a canvas. I've asked the bride for a photo of my canvas and I promise to share it with you so you can see what I'm talking about.