I’m serious. I think my bras are plotting against me. Picture a group of undergarments sitting in front of notebook sized dry erase board with some sort of elastic fueled attack plan. This is what I am talking about in an animated/cartoon Aqua Teen Hunger Force style. (I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually watched the show but the character made from a french fry container is stuck in my head for some reason now.)
In all reality, they are causing me havoc along with some cuts but luckily no bruises. Within maybe a month, they are falling apart on me. True, some of them are older but those are more expensive (think Victoria Secret Body by Victoria line) and so I may have been thinking they’d last forever. Others, however, are clearance rack from Target which I should have known better. If there is a full rack of bras marked down to about $5, it is time to step away even if they have four in my size and they are a neutral color to my skintone (or at least close too really pale but not really really pale. I wore them a few times and now the underwire like to stab me in the armpit. That is one of those awkward moments too especially in public since after jumping, emitting a slight yelp, and looking around to see who saw/heard me, all I want is to go home to take it off and take out the sewing box to fix it.
I know after I’m done reinforcing the fabric stitching where the offending wires are wreaking havoc things will be ok. That is, it will be ok until it happens again or in the case of one favorite bra, the wire breaks in half still within the stitched channel. Hmmm, that’s not fun but so far it behaves and sits flat against my ribcage. Soon though, I know it will start ruffling like the edging on only one cup of another favorite. Part of me wonders if I could iron it but another part thinks I might melt it.
Realistically, I know that I just need to go to the store and buy new ones. Plus, I hate ironing.