Victoria's Secret

Sunday morning I woke up a bit worried about what I'll wear this coming weekend to the holiday party. So I decided to try on the newly taylored pants and the new jacket I bought over Thanksgiving. Yes, you read right, just the pants and the jacket. I decided that for the purpose of testing size I didn't need a shirt. My husband, still in bed, watched me and with much enthusiasm commented, "the pants and the jacket are one shade off." By now you should realise that I married a very practical husband and not one to fall for a free striptease show.

In an effort to add some excitement to our morning I announced that this year I will not be wearing a blouse to the party and it's just the jacket over my bare skin. He looked amused and a laugh escaped his mouth. Ever so stubborn, I declared - "Scars are in! After 27 years I'm going to expose them and feel proud!" Be damned all you good looking b*tches, I'm going to show my battle scars. I've lived in embarrassment for too long.

I think I managed to stay bold for another five minutes, before heading back to my wardrobe to check on my options for shirts. I found a new shirt I bought two years ago for the holiday party and haven't worn yet - red, thin and semi-transparent. This called for drastic measures. I forced my husband to go shopping again.

I needed a red bra.

I think only those who know me, will fully understand the implications of this decision.

• I never owned a red bra in my life.
• I never dragged my husband from bed to go shopping with me for a bra.
• I've never been to Victoria's Secret (not for moral reasons, but simply because whenever we'd pass by the store I'd ask my husband, "What would you have liked me to wear tonight?" and his answer has always been "Nothing." Did I mention he's the practical type?)
• And here's the shocker - I'm 36 years old and don't know my bra size! (Considering I've been "blessed" with a pettite body, sports bras have been sufficient for the purpose of showing gossipers in the office that I do indeed wear a bra underneath my shirt. Of course, in the winter, it's a totally useless piece of extra clothing.)

We enter Victoria's Secret, and this very helpful lady comes over with a measuring tape all eager to "help" asking me what's my size. My husband trying to be helpful raises both his hands up and cups them slightly as he says, "this size." After one look from the lady, he determines he does not need to be part of this and does an about-face and says, "I'll be over at Sharper Image." I am fairly certain the lady saw my confusion at what just happened as she shouted back at him, "You need to stay for this!" [Side question to the men amongst you: is there something sexier about Sharper Image than Victoria's Secret?]

So I'm now hooked on this store. I just love the way they measure for a bra size. I had a loose long sleeve t-shirt and a sweater on - she just put the tape over it, and voila I'm a 36C. Of course once I had to actually try some bras on, I've managed to lose a couple of inches and become a 34C. Which is quite awesome considering I've lived my life in the impression that I'm an AA or an Almost AA or a Barely AA. Pretty cool figuring out after 36 years that it's not all that bad.

...and then my husband walks back in the store. As I'm trying on more sizes in the changing rooms, I hear him talking out loud for all to hear, "So what's her size? 34A?" She admonishes him and fibs on my behalf telling him, "Oh, no, you're way off. She's definitely 36D."

As I pay for the bra, the seller asks me, "No red panties to match?" I considered replying with, "Lady, I'm going to a holiday party, not starting a striptease career. One day at a time!"

I love Victoria's Secret! They definitely know how to enhance a marriage.

Anyway, for all your clueless men who don't know bra sizes, here's a link for your enjoyment. I warn you ahead of time, don't open this link if your wife/girlfriend/boss/co-worker are nearby. It's not R rated, but the sound track will get heads turning. Guess her bra size.