Despite the fact that I have been making dire threats for months now about how This Nursing Thing IS Coming to an End So Help Me God, I’m still breastfeeding. Honestly, the combination of already being at home with Jax and the fact that I nursed Aura for over a year makes the guilt so…strongish that I’m still only supplementing rarely (though the freedom to now mix oatmeal with formula or have a non-pumped bottle at the ready now and then is the equivalent of a full container of Xanax. Or so I’ve heard. You know how it is. Idle chitchat and all that.).
All this is to say that I still need to buy more and more dratted nursing bras, but I can’t fit into those eensy lovely cheapies at Target. I tell you, I may not be a genius when it comes to stock futures and I may not be able to tell you what a Cricut machine is under threat of death, but I can nurse me a full Little Gym of babies. If it came to that. Not that it would, because that’s weird and subtly creepy. But. You’re getting my drift. I can feel it.
Anyway, the following is the conversation you don’t want to have with the twentysomething clerk at the local lingerie superstore. Because if you do you might get murderous or homicidal or a comforting combination of both.
Me: Hi. I’m here to be fitted for a new nursing bra.
YOUNG, LITHE, PERKY CLERK: Okay! Let’s see. Are you pregnant right now, or did you already have the baby?
[Ding-ding goes the Death Bell.]
Me: Yes. He’s six months old. But, you know. THANKS FOR ASKING.
YLPC: No problem! So, have you ever been fitted for a bra before?
Me: Unfortunately, yes.
YLPC: No? Okay then! Let me explain. You’re going to take off your shirt, then stand in front of me topless, and I’ll kind of feel all around your chest with this measuring tape.
Me: Great. Got it. Oh–I’d prefer a nursing bra with an underwire, if you have any.
YLPC: [measures, sadly not squirted with impromptu milk; turns out that wishing really, really hard for something is crap]
Me: All set?
YLPC: Okay! Got the measurements! Let’s see! Well, this bra has an underwire but supposedly isn’t as comfortable as some of our others.
YLPC: At least, that’s what the moms, the older women who work here, tell me.
Me: Uh huh.
YLPC: You know, those women over there at the counter! See them? They’re older, like you.
[DING DING DONG #2.]
Me: I think I see them. My cataracts are making things look a little fuzzy.
Me: Nothing. Anyway. This bra seems like it offers a lot of lift, but I don’t know how supportive it is…
YLPC: Let’s think about this! This is what I would call a “going-out-at-night bra.” I bet you don’t really go out at night anymore, though, do you?
[DEATH BELL NOW A VAPORIZING LASER. ZAP ZAP ZAP]
Me: Give it to me I’m taking it I have plans in May or maybe July.
YLPC: What about this one? It’s not as attractive, or as uplifting, but it sure is comfy. At least the woman on the front of the package looks comfy.
Me: Against my better judgment, I’m actually going to agree with you. She looks comfy. She also looks like she might be on her way to drown a couple of kittens.
Me: Nothing. Forget it.
YLPC: You know what? Why don’t you get both? They’ll get you through the next few months until you drop that baby weight!
[SIZZLE SIZZLE LITHE AND PERKY PILE OF ASH]
[Note: The first bra hurts like hell but you better damn well believe I wear that sucker proudly to...er...the grocery store. The second one--startling model aside--is pure wear-around-the-house heaven and makes me feel that being at an age so close to death isn't all bad.
The best underwire nursing bra I've found this time around, though, is this beauty from Anita. I love it. It's pricey, but I've found that this seems to be the common factor among higher-cup-size, really-works nursing bras. And it's not like I need the money to, you know, GO OUT or anything.]