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OMG MY BOOBIES HAVE BEEN MANHANDLED BY A SCARY LADY.
... Okay, possibly the less alarmist way of phrasing that would be "my boobies have been fitted for a bra by a kind of intimidating lady with an unidentifiable European accent." But still. MANHANDLED. Well, SCARYLADYHANDLED, anyway.
See, I went to buy a new strapless bra. I grabbed a couple at random from a drawer and headed toward the fitting room, where I was suddenly confronted by a saleslady who ushered me into a room, then, beaming, said, "I'll bring you some more. What size?" I told her 38C, but admitted that I wasn't 100% sure.
That may have been unwise.
She sprinted off and returned nanoseconds later with a tape measure. Then there was measuring -- except that first she had to frown critically at my bosom and say, "You look more like 34 to me." Then a little measuring. "Yeah, 34DD you're gonna be." More measuring -- and from here on out, it really makes more sense to write this in script format.
Her: "Yeah. 34DD."
Me: *looks aghast; is thinking, WTF BOOBS, KNOCK IT OFF, THIS BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE*
Her: *interprets aghast look as WHERE THE FUCK WILL I EVER FIND A BRA THAT SIZE OMG?* "Or you can go 36D. Is easier to find."
Me: "... Okay?"
Her: *sprints off, returns with LARGE BOX full of 36D strapless bras for me to try, disappears*
Me: *nervously tries on bras*
Her: *REAPPEARS OMGWTF* "How are those? They fit okay?"
Me: "... Yes?" *opens door* "I like this one."
Her: *critically eyes my bosom AGAIN* "No, too loose. You walk around, it will be down here." *mysteriously disappears again*
Me: *fears*
Her: *reappears again, but this time expectedly, with a box of 34D strapless bras, out of which she fishes the style I'm wearing*
Me: *fears some more*
Her: *MANHANDLES MY BOOBIES out of 36D, in which they were happy and content and HIDDEN, and into 34D instead* "See? In strapless you need 34."
Me: "... Okay?"
Her: *mercifully disappears again*
Me: *FLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES... but, on the other hand, admits that manhandled boobies are in fact even happier in this size*
Her: (this part is just conjecture) *retires to her creepy mountaintop castle, cackling in the knowledge of another boobie-manhandling well done*
... Okay, possibly the less alarmist way of phrasing that would be "my boobies have been fitted for a bra by a kind of intimidating lady with an unidentifiable European accent." But still. MANHANDLED. Well, SCARYLADYHANDLED, anyway.
See, I went to buy a new strapless bra. I grabbed a couple at random from a drawer and headed toward the fitting room, where I was suddenly confronted by a saleslady who ushered me into a room, then, beaming, said, "I'll bring you some more. What size?" I told her 38C, but admitted that I wasn't 100% sure.
That may have been unwise.
She sprinted off and returned nanoseconds later with a tape measure. Then there was measuring -- except that first she had to frown critically at my bosom and say, "You look more like 34 to me." Then a little measuring. "Yeah, 34DD you're gonna be." More measuring -- and from here on out, it really makes more sense to write this in script format.
Her: "Yeah. 34DD."
Me: *looks aghast; is thinking, WTF BOOBS, KNOCK IT OFF, THIS BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE*
Her: *interprets aghast look as WHERE THE FUCK WILL I EVER FIND A BRA THAT SIZE OMG?* "Or you can go 36D. Is easier to find."
Me: "... Okay?"
Her: *sprints off, returns with LARGE BOX full of 36D strapless bras for me to try, disappears*
Me: *nervously tries on bras*
Her: *REAPPEARS OMGWTF* "How are those? They fit okay?"
Me: "... Yes?" *opens door* "I like this one."
Her: *critically eyes my bosom AGAIN* "No, too loose. You walk around, it will be down here." *mysteriously disappears again*
Me: *fears*
Her: *reappears again, but this time expectedly, with a box of 34D strapless bras, out of which she fishes the style I'm wearing*
Me: *fears some more*
Her: *MANHANDLES MY BOOBIES out of 36D, in which they were happy and content and HIDDEN, and into 34D instead* "See? In strapless you need 34."
Me: "... Okay?"
Her: *mercifully disappears again*
Me: *FLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES... but, on the other hand, admits that manhandled boobies are in fact even happier in this size*
Her: (this part is just conjecture) *retires to her creepy mountaintop castle, cackling in the knowledge of another boobie-manhandling well done*