Let it be known that I had my bra size measured in the semi-depressing, saloon-door-cubicled lingerie fitting room of Macy's on Friday. There were signs everywhere declaring that 7 out of 10 women are wearing the wrong size, and as a tireless proselytizer on the topic, I decided to put my own advice to use.
My first choice for a bra fitting would not, for the record, be a department store. I think the woman who measured me may have been put off by my polite questioning of her methods (she didn't have me take my shirt off, she did not determine cup size through a complex algorithm of widest-part-around measurement and just-under-the-boobs measurement as I expected), but after all was said and done, I have one thing to say to you.
I'm one of the 3. I am, and have been for the past year and a half, wearing the correct bra size. Please stifle your gasps of jealousy--it's lonely at the top. I didn't know whether to be elated or depressed. I am proud of myself for having changed sizes when I felt like my bra wasn't doing me right and for having determined the correct size on my own, but I'm a little sad because I had visions of getting a new size and getting a new lease on life along with my new bra. I am here to report there will be no new lease for me.
I hesitate to relay this story because I am an exception. I don't want you to think this means you are one of the other 2 in 10. Because you are still probably wearing the wrong size and I am not going to back off this topic until you go get measured and have the transformational experience that's inevitably in store for you.