“You have no chest!”
I was seated with my mother in the main dining room of a retirement village. She was commenting on my weight loss and stated her observation loud enough for everyone under 60 to hear. Thankfully most diners hadn’t – hadn’t seen 60 in a decade or more.
At the time of my first love affair (with the fellow I married within months) the French measurement was in vogue: “Enough to fill a champagne glass.” I understand why someone soon afterwards thought up tulip-shaped glassware to replace the traditional saucer shape; I was happily married by then. Ask me now. Would I rather be 164 pounds with a chest or 124 and fit in a size 2 skirt?
Take a wild guess.
Those of us around age 52 grew up hearing, “You can never be too rich or too thin.” Wrong. If you are thinner than the one commenting on your slimmer shape, you are too, too. My peers now talk of the “divorce diet,” but I haven’t seen ads for it. Have you? Would it go something like, “For every year of marriage gain two pounds, loose it and earn one year of support?”
I once heard of a fellow who treated each new girlfriend to a boob job. Kind of made my mouth twist sideways at the time but I had a passing thought recently. “Could he be between projects and ready for a challenge?”
Of course I jest but I do need to shop for undergarments that fit. It isn’t right having support garments that need support.