A cup runneth over

Just from the title alone, you would probably be thinking I am talking about a mug or a coffee cup. Nope. I am referring to my daughter's cup size, as in bra. I'm tickled pink to be even typing this but it was hilarious as it happened. She put on a shirt one day and I asked her what did she have on under her clothes. She said that she didn't understand what I was talking about. So I asked her what was all that jiggly stuff. She laughed and said, "oh that?" Um, yeah that. Her breasts could no longer fit the bra. There was jiggly stuff in the middle and her bra was just covering some extra breast meat on the side somewhere. I told her that we needed to go bra shopping because the bra she had on was of no use to her anymore and she said that she had several like that one.

I hardly ever (which really means really close to never) use my Belk card. I just have it, so I thought I would pull that thing out and go and get my daughter a really good bra in the mall. (I hate the mall with a passion.) But it wasn't about me. I told her to shower first before we left because she was going to be trying these bras on; and also she was going to get fitted by a bra specialist for the very first time. (Can you imagine your title being a bra specialist...LOL) So off we go to the mall and she is as jolly as ever to get some new bras from the mall (instead of Wal-mart or K-mart). I told her that she could get up to five and that if need be, we would come back at another time. But she opted to get two instead and they fit so much better. She said that she didn't think a bra could make your clothes look better. I knew for a fact that it does, especially me, being a plus size (but gorgeous) chic.

Well my daughter is happy for now. I am happy that I don't have to see them jiggling basketballs out of the net. They are finally in a comfortable resting place where they belong.