It's All About Your A, B...D's?

I've joked over the years with my husband that after we're done have kids I'm taking one of his profit sharing checks from work and getting a boob job. Though I've never actually been entirely serious, the thought of knowing I could fix the "Sager Sisters" as I am sure they will be called in the next 5-10 years (or less!) does make me feel a little better.

I have to say that the 5 months I've been pregnant have changed my mind, and fast. I say this because my chest had grown...and fast. The last 2 pregnancies, nothing happened in this "top region" until the babies were born, so imagine my surprise when I wake up one morning to put on my comfy "Vickies" bra and could barely reach the clasps in the back together and once I managed to to my boobs looked like a fat man stuffed in a XS Speedo.

I refused to give up my much loved collection of Vickies (Victoria's Secret for those a little behind this morning) bras. I'm what you might call a "Bra Snob" I prefer and typically unless there's an emergency, will only wear Vickies. I feel in 29 years I have earned the right for great comfort and support even if, until now, there's not been a whole lot to actually comfort and support....

I tired on each and every bra in my drawer, and not one even came close. So I decided to go "Old School", 1960's banner waving, Make Love Not War, BAN THE BRA...I mean come on, I'm not going out to buy a whole new round when they will only fit me for 4 months tops! And for a few weeks this method worked. Until I finally realized that it was time to give in and get myself a new, larger and probably not nearly as cute as my others, "over the shoulder boulder holder". At my next trip to Target I stood pondering my new size, too lazy to try it on and decided with the help of my husband (who thinks he is a boob size estimator simply by sight) to get a 34 C. I'm a 34, I could have only gone up a cup size...34 C....riiiight.

I took the new outcast bra home and tried it on, those stupid little clasps in the back barely connected and my sister pointed out that I was "popping out" of this one too. WHAT! Oh come on! I couldn't possibly be a D? Could all my husbands years of man hood faded away when we got married, could he have estimated the size of my new found boobs incorrectly?

Needless to say, I sit here "anti-bra" today, knowing full well I have to drag myself and "the girls" back to the store to buy a new bra....in what I can only imagine will be a D. My God, will I even be able to walk by the time this baby is born? If these puppies keep growing, ALex and I are going to need bigger bed!