Fitting Rooms: Prozac’s Mortal Enemy

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I’m exhausted.  I went shopping today.  But it wasn’t fun shopping.  It was the most dreaded type of shopping that happens mostly with major bi-annual sales: bra shopping.

No, boys, bra shopping isn’t always a walk in the park.  Oh sure, it could be, except I’m a 36D.  Now, I’ve made peace with my boobies, but not exactly with my bras.  I mean, I don’t look like Dolly Parton or anything, and I do feel mostly proportional to my body, but having big ta-tas mean that you can’t just wear some skimpy lace and ruffles–your bras really need to work.  They don’t make as many fun bras in the larger sizes, and a they cost a ton of money…so I wait for the sales, see?

Still, once you get to the female-only fitting rooms, there’s chocolates, massage oils and fluffy pillows for us to throw around while we romp around in our knickers.  Snort.  Riiight.  What you really get are soul-sucking mirrors from an evil parallel universe.

Not only do these evil mirrors add twenty pounds, the lights give a nice zombie cast to the skin while accentuating every miniscule imperfection you possibly have.  The mirror at JC Pennys was bad, but the one at Macy’s was so depressing that I didn’t even make it all the way to Victoria Secrets.  That store has über skinny chicks with push up bras pouting all over the store.  I don’t need a push up bra.  Why can’t I find a normal bra that doesn’t want to turn me 2 sizes larger–that would be a DDD!  I’m fine with what I’ve got already!  Scrawny, hungry models.  I’m going to go eat a donut now.  They can kiss my zombie butt.

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6 thoughts on “Fitting Rooms: Prozac’s Mortal Enemy

  1. I completely agree. When I have to go into the fitting room to try anything on I end up so angry and disgusted that I just give up on shopping for clothing and end up in the shoe department. Before I go into the fitting room I could swear that I’m at least 5’2″, but when I look in the mirror I appear to be 4′ tall with a “wide load” tattoo on my lower back.
    I thoroughly enjoy the drawings by the way. So true!!

    • I especially love the unflattering green cast to the light, too. And I have the same therapy–shoe department. When I was a kid I never understood why my mom had so many shoes. Now I realize it is a genetic disorder…

  2. Hadar

    Thank heavens; I thought I was the only one who thought this.
    It’s dead true; fitting room mirrors are cursed!
    It’s even worse when they have like three mirrors surrounding you. It’s like “yay now I can see how awful I look like from the back and side too”!

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