Kitty Fisher

Size-positivity, feminism, self-esteem crises, ginormous tits.

breaking radio silence

Posted by Kitty on April 23, 2008

Just popping in here to explain that i briefly ran away to London, for personal reasons, but while I was here, I leapt at the chance to pop into the excellent and world-renowned local bra shops for a fitting.

I’ve been looking forward to visiting one for literally years, about three years in fact– I discovered Bravissimo online about 3 years ago and it changed my life, as I have probably recounted. Since then I’ve been daydreaming about visiting one in person.

I got do to so today.
I also got to go to Rigby & Peller, a world-famous lingerie shop just off Saville Row in London, which is known for rigorous and truly professional bra fittings.

Neither of them had anything that would fit me. The R&P fitter offered to pin up the bands of too-large bras so that I could alter them at home.
$140 for a bra that still doesn’t fit.
I’m seriously considering it.

So, anyway. Am in London. Seriously depressed. Drinking in my hotel room. Will curl up under the bed and eat sock lint. I had this fantasy, that somewhere, over the sea, somewhere they stocked more bra sizes, and I would go there, and I would be revealed as normal. Or at least, socially-acceptable enough to walk into a store and buy something and walk out feeling good.

Perhaps it’s kind of a body dysmorphia. I don’t know. I’ve lived with these breasts for years, though it’s only in the last few that they’ve really grown into something unmanageable. (Well… OK… no bras have fit me since I was 13, which is 15 years ago now. But still. I was once successfully fitted into a 36E. I was 18. Things have changed since then. A lot of things.) I’ve had these breasts preceding me everywhere I go for my entire adult life. And try as I might, I just can’t see them as being that big. They’re not. They’re not that big.
Am I delusional?
I don’t know.

But. Long story short, I’m a freak. And it’s really upsetting me. So, more booze.

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