My Bra Cup Runneth Over

Yesterday, I suffered a very traumatic experience disguised as a blessing. My son’s grandmother took me out clothes shopping. I was ecstatic! It’s been years since I’ve really gone clothes shopping for myself. What a blessing! I didn’t even know where to start. Well, turns out we started with the basics, and by basics I mean TORTURE DEVICES.

We headed to the mall for bra shopping. That’s right fella’s. Bras, Boobie Slings, breast resters, tittie transports, bosom bindery, mammary manacles. God, I hate bras. Or, maybe I should say Bras hate me. I just bought new bras last spring and they’re near useless. Upon suggestion, I visited a new store. I was told they have nice durable bras, even pretty ones, for the blessed . How’s that for a slogan? Bare-able Bras for the Blessed!

Anyways, I walked into the store with a small amount of hope that I could find something better. MAYBE even something I liked. However, at the clerk’s prodding, I agreed to get measured ,and that was formidable enough. I’m not the girl-y girl of girls. I’m rather embarrassed at my ignorance of much girl stuff, and I hate to ask someone I don’t know to have to wrap something around me. She measured me, and I sighed in exasperation when she told me 36 DDD. TRIPLE D? God. They’ve grown.

However, the bra she handed me as she pointed me towards the dressing room didn’t quite work. I got in there and cried out “OH NO NO NO ! This doesn’t work for me!” I was bubbling out over the top and around the sides of it. No one should ever have to see themselves in such a way. It was a horrifying experience like some science experiment gone terribly wrong, and my cries for help went unnoticed. After my freak out, I made my way back to her counter. To make a long story short, she went and found one in the back for me to try on so she could order one that fits. She helped me in sizing that one, and as she left the dressing room she said “A lot of women would kill to have them.” I replied, moaning and yelling over the door “They can have them!! I will mail them to them! I don’t wannem..*cry *cry *cry”
Final verdict: 36 G….G for GODda…i mean, G for Great Gonzagas of Glorious God love! These are no longer a nice part of my body. They are obviously a parasite that is continually feeding off of me and will NEVER STOP GROWING! Quick! Somebody measure me, and see if I’m shrinking in height! It’s obvious we should all collectively pay a cosmetic surgeon to reduce them. I’m quite sure they’re just waiting to gain optimum size for world domination.

Go ahead and laugh. You won’t be laughing when they grow beyond their larval stage and tear themselves from my body and wreak havoc upon your plane!! How would you feel if your world were run by a bunch of boobs? Oh wait….

That’s right. Laugh away. I forgive you., but just when you thought there was a story I couldn’t make a parable out of - TADA! Here it is!

Blessings truly runneth over in our lives…and sometimes we don’t notice that they are quietly growing behind the scenes. Sometimes, when we see how blessed we are, it may lead to a troubling realization that we have been quite blind to that truth! If we take a moment to step out of our haze and measure them, we realize they’re all over the place and we can’t contain them - So, what do we do? Embrace them? Find a way to become a bigger container?.Share them?.(Do NOT use this parable as a way to say I should obviously share my boobies with you via nude pictures).

Just as it’s true for blessings, the same is true for some little thing we don’t want to see bout ourselves. It can grow quietly until it’s out of control and falling out all over the place and affecting those around us!

I know that many blessings hang in the air around you just waiting for you to see them and call them out. Go ahead and take a moment to measure them. Leave or send me a comment with some blessings you recognize or maybe even have been overlooking as you focus on the trials in your life instead. I’d love to share the bliss of your blessings with you.