From A to B - Find the right bra size for your funbags
I have some good news.
No, the economy isn't back to normal. No, Osama Bin Laden hasn't been captured. And no, there are still starving children in Africa. My good news isn't anywhere near as monumental as any current headline scrolling on the CNN ticker, but it is monumental to me...well, and my boyfriend. Here goes. I am no longer wearing an A cup bra. This news may not thrill any of you, but you haven't heard the whole story from A to B. Here's the breast of it.
Once upon a time there was a girl who had no boobs. Never referred to as top heavy, she was nicknamed "Mosquito Bites" up until her late teens thanks to her concave chest. Never one to complain with what God gave her, Mosquito Bites was always content with her A cup capacity. Sure she would've been happier with an A+, but was still thankful that she wasn't an A- or worse yet, a negative A.
Then on a day like any other day, Mosquito Bites sauntered into a Forever 21 and found a display of attractive Fab Find Convertible Bras hanging on the wall for only $4.50 each. Mosquito grabbed a few 32A's from the racks with a bit of trouble (Mosquito Bites was short), and took them into the dressing room where she quickly tried on her regular size but found it pinched and puckered.
Then one of the bras fell to the ground with a light shining down on it, a beam directly from the heavens. Mosquito picked it up and realized it was a B cup bra. She must have grabbed the wrong size in her effort to knock bras down from their 7 foot rack with her handbag. Just for tits and giggles, Mosquito tried the larger cup size on and found that it fit perfectly. Her boobie bites were perfectly cupped! Harps began to play and angels began to sing. At some point, Mosquito Bites' boobs had blossomed into a pair of buxom B cup sized beauties. She didn't question it, she just enjoyed it.
And Mosquito Bites lived happily ever after, without the help of insertable chicken cutlets from Victoria's Secret.
*Okay. I just realized that after reading this my friends, family and co-workers are going to be staring at my chest so they can take in my expansion for themselves. That's fine, but please refrain from calling me Mosquito.
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