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I stood awkwardly in the lingerie section of Penneys, and felt oddly out of place, mirroring Father Ted et al amongst ladies underwear. It was hopeless even endeavouring to source a bra here. This lingerie catered for the presumably “hangry women”, who hadn’t seen a sliced pan since they were prepubescent. I on the other hand, was on the other side of the scale, more of a CARBie than a Barbie. I would need reliable underwear that suited my disposition, Iron enforced, bullet proof, the works.
I was about to exit the store, when a glimmering display caught my attention. Like a greedy magpie, spotting a silver treasure, I swooped down the aisle. “New Plus Sized Section, in Sizes D – G “. My (presumably lard encrusted) heart almost ceased beating. Usually such brassieres would be tan coloured and akin to the attire you would most likely find in the musty closet of an eighty year old!
This one was much more appealing! I would surely entrap a man in these undies.
I waited in line clutching my new undergarment tightly, whilst the unique and gratifying bond between woman and bra formed. I could hear the distant sound of a church organ tinkling…
”I take thee Penneys Bra, to love, and for support, for the duration of the next 12 months. Amen.”
Upon claiming ownership of the scarlet brassiere I rushed to the nearby shopping centre toilets to make the swap.
“Sorry buddy, you gotta go”, I exclaimed upon turfing my beige M&S bra into the nearby sanitary disposal bin. I felt Greta Thunberg turn in her future biodegradable grave, but I didn’t care.
I was empowered. I was a Motherfucking Qween!!!
I had a peep at myself on my phone screen camera. Ok a little squidgier than I should be but as the wise Lizzo would say I was “FEELING GOOD AS HELL”. I tossed my hair, and teetered out in my new chunky heels.
My phone buzzed, a new tinder match. He had a job, and was below 300 pounds. DAYUM. I was ready for mating season!
Upon departing the shopping centre, I heard a worrying sound. The gentle creaking of counterfeit metal warping… NOOOO it was happening again!
The bra groaned under the heavy burden of my bosoms. The creaking sound worsened, and gravity took its toll. Feeling like a passenger on the Titanic, I hoisted up my bosoms in the crook of my arm. Holding on for dear life, I made my way towards the life bus. “I WILL NEVER LET GO”, I exclaimed, a look of icy determination splayed across my face.
Alas the hull of the ship could not take the pressure, and the clasp snapped at the back. The groaning of warping metal continued, attracting concerned glances from passing onlookers.
WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT? YOU NEVER SEEN A GIRLS BRA SNAP IN HALF BEFORE?!
Feeling like a de-shelled snail on a french platter I clambered miserably aboard the bus.
Didn’t Penneys/other stores do a quality check on these products? If the sweatshop rumours were true, then they need to be more selective about the workers chosen. Nimble fingers does not necessarily equal better work!
To conclude, it is my view that the plus size lingerie selection of most department stores is severely lacking and the marketing of such produce is based upon bittersweet lies. It is also in direct contravention to the Sale of Goods and Supply of Services Act 1980, as these goods are not of merchantable quality. On a similar note the goods supplied are not fit for purpose, as said brassieres sold do not “support” nor “elevate” the purchasers breasts.
This treachery must end and all voluptuous females should be supplied with high quality undergarments! I beseech all unsupported females to join together, and form a #BrassiereBrigade to march on Dail Eireann, and demand equality amongst all cup sizes!!
This is the Battle of the Bosoms.