Bras need longer lifespans

I'm not sure how one defines the lifespan of a bra, but I think it should go something like this:

Price of bra divided by days of use multiplied by comfort level = life span.

Now, one would think this is a simple equation, and that if you go out and buy the most expensive bra, it should last the longest. It should also be the most comfortable bra. WRONG-O!

Now, for those of you lucky enough not to have huge boobs, I hope bra shopping is a much more pleasant experience. You can buy cute, skinny-strapped, fancy bras that are fit to wear out in public. Once you hit 38D, that doesn't exist anymore. Sure, you can try, but the pure weight of your bossoms being distributed across your shoulders on thin little spaghetti straps, well, it's like you inserted a couple of razor blades into each shoulder. Not fun. Not cute. Not worth it.

So, instead, you go for comfort. Ok, should be easy. Nooooooo! If I could count how many bras I've purchased for "comfort" while trying them on for 2 seconds in a dressing room, only to have them jabbing me in the armpit or creeping up to a non-support status after an hour of wear, I'd be a bazillionaire. My bra buying regimen now consists of jumping jacks, toe touches, twists, and reaching for the sky in a cramped dressing room. If the bra stays in place, doesn't try to kill me through my ribcage, and is still less than $50, I buy it. And if it still works like that after the first two washings, I go back and buy that bra in every color available. You think I'm kidding???

I remember the days pre-child when I had cute, perky 36Cs that fit nicely into any bra I wanted. Lacey, colorful, silky, I could buy them all and strut around with pride. Now, not so much. It's all I can do to keep them from annoying the crap out of me. Post-baby boobs suck. So when you find a bra that makes you look in the mirror and say "Well, those aren't too ugly today," you tend to go out and buy multiples of that particular bra. It's just one of the sad facts of giving birth- your body is no longer yours, nor does it cooperate. AT ALL. If I could change one thing post-baby, I'd ask for my old boobs back. I don't even care if they are perky anymore. Just smaller. Less boulder-like.

Today, I am lamenting the loss of my last amazingly comfortable ugly bra, whose life ended in the wash, it's wire jutting out the side like a javeline stuck in a wall. Not going to be comfortable now. Sigh. So now it's back to the lingerie section to try on ugly bras, jiggle, dance, and stretch, to see which one is worth paying $50 or less for. And tonight, when I go to sleep, I will say a little prayer.

God, please let me wake up with smaller boobs. Amen.