2005-09-05 - 7:53 p.m.
I bought myself a fabulous new bra yesterday. I've been wearing sports bras for years, because they're easy and comfortable. But yesterday, I bought a "t-shirt" bra, with an underwire and a lightly padded smooth cup. (I've gone up a cup size since I last bought a proper bra - which is probably weight gain, and nothing to be proud of, but it's kind of nice to have boobs.) And voila! We have cleavage. I was terribly gauche and told my secretary to "check out my cool bra!" while patting my chest. I'm going to wear a low cut top tomorrow to celebrate my new and improved breasts.
(Unfortunately, it's not as comfortable as a sports bra, but you can't have everything.)
I am a strange mixture of brazen confidence and utter shyness and uncertainty. It seems to be that with two such opposing things, one must be less true than the other. Yet they both seem to exist, quite happily together, so that I can make a ribald comment and mean it, yet blush painfully afterwards. Or be convinced of my general fabulousness one moment, and feel terribly uncertain about my abilities the next.
'Tis strange indeed. The wonderful dichotomies of Sif.
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