Who let the air out?

So a week before I weaned the baby I went out and bought a cartload of new bras. My old nursing bras were so stretched and worn that the only support they offered was a comfortable shoulder strap for my children to cry on.

This is my third child. I know what happens to the girls when we’re done nursing. The deflation process is swift and sure, it’s like trading in water balloons for socks with golf balls. And yet, I went out and bought bras BEFORE letting all the air out of the tires. 

In hindsight, I guess that maybe it was a subconscious attempt at using The Secret. It was me hoping that if I believed hard enough, actually had enough faith to invest in a truck load of lovely big cupped bras, my bosom would step up to the plate and hold it’s stance. It’s the old “if you build it they will come” mentality.

We all do this in one way or another. If I buy an elliptical, I’ll get skinny. If I buy a minivan, I’ll get pregnant. If I buy a 34D…you get the point. 

And so, four weeks later I am sitting here in my bra, wondering what to do with this inch of space between my poor teensy bosom and that hard candy shell of a brazier I present to the public. It’s like having two new pockets, perfect for cash, kleenex, or hey, I could even carry treats with me! Who needs perfume? Stuff a little homemade bread down there and I’ll have men literally drooling all over the place to get to my chest. 

I wonder how well Salami stores…