Random Superficiality

I am sorely in need of a haircut. Thankfully, it is after 10am and I can call the salon to schedule an appointment shortly, while on break.

Also, I was in need of new brassieres last week, so we went to Gap Body, who forever has my love and devotion after I bought my wedding bra there that practically gives me cleavage (those who have seen me know what a feat this is, and those who haven’t, well, the last time I was measured, Vicky’s told me I was a 34AA, which they don’t really sell, because only gymnasts and preteen girls wear that size). Vicky’s hadn’t lost my love entirely when I went off on this search in August for a strapless bra that didn’t look horrible, though I was unable to find anything in their store that fit that bill. But when that search was added with the rest of their catalog full of less-than-pretty clothing, sleepwear, etc (which has been sorely disappointing for the entire length of time that I’ve been looking for cute or attractive sleepwear that would be seen by a boy), I no longer desire to shop there.

Back to my original story… we went to the Mall of America and I went to Gap Body while Prince Charming went to drool in the Apple Store. I grabbed several things to try on and went into the dressing room. And came out shortly thereafter without a thing in my hand. I walked up to the register, waited for a moment, and then asked if I could be measured because nothing was fitting. In the good way. (Well, I guess if you are a already-voluptuous woman, it would probably be the bad way, but for those of us whose curves are defined by the way our bones stick out, it was the good way.) And apparently I’m now somewhere between an A and a B, and I was told to go try on B’s. Will wonders never cease? Just to get this out of the way, no, I’m not pregnant, and that’s not why the girls are miraculously a size larger. Don’t ask questions, you might scare them back to normalcy. Maybe God finally heard all my prayers from junior high through college. Who knows. Maybe that four pounds I put on last week (my weight has fluctuated a whole heck of a lot now that I live in suburbia – I don’t think I’ve fully adjusted to the schedule, living with a car, etc) was all in my chest?

At any rate, I am wearing one of my new bras today with a rather tight sweater, and I feel as though my chest is just sticking out there in the middle of the room. Do people who actually have large chests feel this way often?

There’s no way for men to relate to this story at all, is there. Sorry, to my 1.5 male readers. I just discovered that I have some new readers, or at least that I’ve been listed on a few blogrolls, and that’s nice. Very exciting. And, for some reason, someone got to my site yesterday by doing a Google search for “three ways to trigger a tsunami” (for which I now see I’m the second result, quite humorously). I’m sure they were quite disappointed in what they found. Also, my ranking on Technorati has finally gone up. It was a 3 before I moved to the subdomain, and then it was a 2 for a long time, and now it’s a 6! (To give you a frame of reference, blogs in the top 100 have rankings in the 20-30 thousand range.) So happy day!