Braless in Seattle

My baby is due in a month (give or take 3 weeks, as due dates are apparently wildly non-predictive), and guess what that means: it’s bra-shopping season all over again!

According to my calculations, I’ve spent more time shopping for bras during the past 8 months than the rest of my life combined.

There’s nothing quite like not fitting into any of the nursing bras (or, an even worse fit: those nursing tank tops with the feeding holes everyone but me loves) suggested by every well-meaning friend and random-mom-on-the-street to make a pregnant girl feel like a circus freak—not to mention totally frustrated and braless.

I do my fair share of complaining about the internet, but in this particular case, I say: God Bless! Similarly: God Bless credit cards, despite the havoc you have been known to wreak, and God Bless generous return policies, and God Bless UPS and the United States Postal Service. Without all of you I would be forced to spend another 6–12 months in frumpy, self-conscious, maternal discomfort.

God Bless, also, the woman at the local maternity bra manufacturer’s design shop (God Bless big cities!) for figuring out my size and complimenting my hair as it kept getting tangled in the bra straps and paying more attention to my breasts than they’ve seen in a good, long time. I apologize for using the information you gave me to send money down the information superhighway instead of putting it directly in your capable, amiable hands.