New bras arrived today. They are not life-changing. Not even the one I'm keeping (I bought two sizes and I'm exchanging the too-big one for the right size and maybe a different color). It was too much pressure to put on a foundation garment, really.
What was I thinking? I like the bra. It is sturdy and I think it will serve me well. My shirts probably will fit differently, but then again, they do in different bras all the time.
At least I still know my size. After trying the bras on, I was having some trouble deciding which one to keep and which to exchange. It was advised if you were above a certain size, you should go up a band size when ordering. But when I wear that one, I'm on the smallest set of hooks already. There's no where to go if it stretches or if I shrink.
I now own a sewing-style tape measure (I already have several of the hardware store variety), because I had to measure The Boy I Currently Like last weekend for his suit for The Boy I Currently Like's Better-Looking Friend's upcoming nuptials. So, I decided to measure myself for a bra again. I was shocked, angry and panicked because I thought I somehow shot from an F cup to an I cup. I measured several more times and then rechecked the directions. It seems I missed a step. Whew. I'm still an F cup.
There are some things that really should be left to the professionals. When will I learn? (I'm worried about The Boy's suit, now. Poop.)