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Sometimes, whether it is a bra or a relationship, that perfect fit eludes us. Here is a funny story.
I have a confession to make: I am one of those people who has mostly bought regular cotton bras which you get at your roadside shop, hastily packed by a shifty looking sales guy. But as I grew (literally) I realised that getting the perfect fit was easier said than done. It also took me time to realise that there are different styles and cuts of dresses, blouses, kurtas and each of them meant having a different style of bras.
So far I have met the T-shirt bra, saree bra and bras that look like they came off Xena the warrior princess. I have also had brief encounters with the nursing bra which was my best friend during the time I was a personal vending machine.
Different bras come with their own personality quirks and the most common among them is stubbornness as they refuse to stay hidden. Sometimes I wonder if we ask too much of girls – first they must hide their breasts, then their bras, then any indication that there is a bra and also themselves in that order.
If any of these fail, we term it a wardrobe malfunction even though the wardrobe here is probably the most intact thing here – her confidence not so much.
‘Braccidents’ are pretty common, at least that is how it feels to me. Peeking bra straps seem to be the worst offenders here. Buying the bra from the shifty guy at the counter also means that more often than not, I bring home the wrong size because all I want to do then is buy the bra and then change my name and move to another country. Hence the correct size of the garment is always a big question mark.
Here are some of the accidents that fall under this category and all because the right fit eluded you once again.
Scenario One: You wear your pretty pink bra which is all you have left as laundry is still on the to do list, with your usual formal white shirt, only to realise mid-way through your day in office that maybe that was not the brightest thing to do.
Scenario Two: The invite to your family get together says wear white saree. So you wear the only blouse in your closet that fits with your usual bra, only to find your dad’s cousin’s wife whom you have never spoken to, standing behind you tucking in your straps and bra band into the blouse.
Scenario Three: Your tailor wants to try out some new neckline designs to the cloth you gave him to stitch which looked pretty on paper but in reality involves a circle right above the left boob. Which means that there is not a single bra in your lingerie drawer that can help you without making its acquaintance to the outside world.
Scenario Four: You buy that magical strapless bra that seems to magically hold everything in its place only to find that it has forgotten its promise midway during your event.
Considering how clandestine the whole affair of buying a bra is, most women (atleast the ones I know) have never been bra schooled. The only lesson they got was probably from their mom when they bought their first sports bra.
Stray conversations with girlfriends and aunts help but they can range from you should always wear conical shaped bras, (thanks but will inform you if I get the role of a ‘fort door’) or myths like black bras can cause cancer (please don’t fall for this one!)
There are very few brands in India that take brassieres seriously and Buttercups is one, as they promise the perfect fit.
Do you have a funny account of a bra that failed you? Or of anything that was not quite a perfect fit, be it a bra, an outfit, a relationship or a friendship? Get started, writing for the ‘That Didn’t Fit Right’ blogger contest that Women’s Web is running in association with Buttercups.
Celebrate yourself with a perfect fit. Take the Buttercups quiz @ and get that perfect fit you deserve. Use GYRF10 to avail a 10% discount.
Top image of laughing young woman courtesy Shutterstock
A traveler at heart and a writer by chance a vital part of a vibrant team called Women's Web. I Head Marketing at Women's Web.in and am always evolving new ways in read more...
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Veena got into the lift. It was a festival day, and the space was crammed with little children dressed in bright yellow clothes, wearing fancy peacock feather crowns, and carrying flutes. Janmashtami gave her the jitters. She kept her face down, refusing to socialize with anyone.
They had moved to this new apartment three months ago. The whole point of shifting had been to get away from the ruthless questioning by ‘well-wishers’.
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I huffed, puffed and panted up the hill, taking many rest breaks along the way. My calf muscles pained, my heart protested, and my breathing became heavy at one stage.
“Let’s turn back,” my husband remarked. We stood at the foot of Shravanbelagola – one of the most revered Jain pilgrimage centres. “We will not climb the hill,” he continued.
My husband and I were vacationing in Karnataka. It was the month of May, and even at the early hour of 8 am in the morning, the sun scorched our backs. After visiting Bangalore and Mysore, we had made a planned stop at this holy site in the Southern part of the state en route to Hosur. Even while planning our vacation, my husband was very excited at the prospect of visiting this place and the 18 m high statue of Lord Gometeshwara, considered one of the world’s tallest free-standing monolithic statues.
What we hadn’t bargained for was there would be 1001 granite steps that needed to be climbed to have a close-up view of this colossal magic three thousand feet above sea level on a hilltop. It would be an understatement to term it as an arduous climb.
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