embarassing moment 14, 372

Let me preface the story by saying that Lane Bryant and like retailers should not tempt us lusciously figured girls with front-clasp bras. Because we see them in our size and think, my god, it's a miracle. We try them on in well-lit dressing rooms and they lift and cover and make us look gorgeous and we think, yes; there is a god. But this is just wishful, foolish thinking on our parts. Because we wear the bra, and it's comfortable. The more we wear it, the more we love it. Until that one day when we're walking with a new friend and all of a sudden, pop. The bra has come undone. There's still quite a walk to the car. Thank the heavens it's dark, you're wearing black and the friend is talking. You're distracted, hoping she hasn't noticed. You make it to the elevator where a group of girls who look twelve get on and start talking about mushrooms. You just want to get to the car. When you drop off this friend and try to check things out, you realize the bra has not simply opened, instead it's broken.

And this is my life.