Embracing the Third D - Epilogue

The call came.  JC Penney had my new bra.  The G.  The big freakin G!  Still daunted, still overwhelmed that my tits are actually a size G, I sheepishly went to the catalog department to pick it up. 

I was convinced that this was all a big mistake.  Big being the operative word here.   It had to be.  My name is not Busty McGee, so how on earth could I really have a G cup.  WTF is a G cup?   Who even knew the G cup existed?  It doesn't seem possible to me.  Granted, I know I've got the goods.  But a G?  I clearly can't get over it, so I chose denial.  It's a mistake.  Booby Bonnie was just a little too titillated when she was sizing me.  That had to be it.  Bored with sizing the usual 36 C's, she saw in me her crowning moment.  She was going to achieve boobaledge glory at my expense.  So she blurted out the first letter that came to her mind.  G. She gave me the Grand Teton's.  And when I received this bra, I was going to be swimming it.  It was going to be so huge, I convinced myself, that I would go back to Booby Bonnie tell her she was wrong!   I am not a G and I'll go back to my Triple D thank you very much! 

My bra was in a plain white wrapper, like I was buying something dirty.  And I felt dirty.  "G, G, G" I kept hearing in my head as I quickly walked out of the store and to my car.  "G, G, G."  It haunted me.  I came home, opened the package and looked at the monstrosity that lie inside.  It's black, and it's lacy, but it is ginormous.   I laughed when I saw it.  "No way is this going to fit," I thought out loud.  No way.  My tits are going to be dwarfed.  I'll feel tiny for the first time since I was picked on mercilessly by the boys in school for having no breasts whatsoever.  I was a late bloomer.  I didn't get my hooters until I was out of school, just my luck.  Dateless and Titless is what my nickname should have been in high school. 

Shaking my head and telling myself I'll try it on just to prove Booby Bonnie wrong, I put it on.  Damn her!  The bitch was right.  I'm a fucking G cup!  The damn thing fits like a glove.  I shimmied right into it and they looked proud, perky and a little smug.  I'm a G.  I'm a G and I'm slowly getting to a place where I feel less horror about it and more pride.  I'm a G dammit!

Embracing the Third D - Part II

As my luck has been odd lately, I ended up winning a free bra from JC Penney.  I apparently signed up for this contest when I was there with mom before Mother's Day and we had gotten sized.  I don't remember doing this, but a free bra is a free bra.

When we get there, the girl who sized us last time was not there and girl who was decided she wanted to size me again to be sure before I picked a bra out.  That's any bra in the store.  Sweet.  I planned on picking one that was really expensive.  I looked around a little and found a zebra striped bra that had my name all over it.  Unfortunately it didn't have my size all over it. So I continued looking.  I knew I wanted black because well, most of my bras are black.  I have the one obligatory white bra for when I wear something light colored, which is almost never.  But I have it.

Off to the dressing room I go with Booby Bonnie, the most gung ho bra sizer ever.  And after I lift my top and show her what I've got, she starts pulling up and yanking down and tightening and adjusting every aspect of the harness I'm wearing.  Well look at that, Booby Bonnie knows her shit because my girls are actually looking high and perky!   But then she slaps me with the bad news.  After a few measurements and a few adjustments she informs me that I'm not a DDD, but I'm a G.  Yes, a G.  You heard me.  A fucking G!!!!!

I am all at once impressed and mortified.  A G?  Who the fuck is a G?  Mom isn't even a G and she had huge tits.  Wait, that means I have huger tits than mom?  How is this possible?   A fucking G!  What does G even mean... Ginormous?  Gigantor?  Gargantuan?  Sheesh I'm not a porn star.  I'm not a model for Big Tits magazine.  I'm just me, all natural, going about my every day life, having made peace with a DDD.  I don't think I can make peace with a G.  It's too daunting.  It's overwhelming.  And now all I can imagine is my tits arriving 5 minutes before the rest of me wherever I go.  I'm going to have nightmares that my whole being is one giant tit.  G.  I feel so dirty....  Hmm, maybe it's not as bad as I think after all.