McKenna and I decided to blow off some final's season steam with some retail therapy at the Riverwood's. We make a stop in Victoria's Secret, and the sales lady ends up convincing us to get sized for bras. Member of itty-bitty-you-know-whatty committee that I am, the salesgirl brings me a push-up bra. (PS-I'm so glad this blog is anonymous)
Needless to say, I tried it on. Clasped on and straps all adjusted I look up into the mirror and I start blushing like crazy. No one can see me, and yet, I feel embarrassed to be in a public place with my bosoms propped up like this. Immediately, I throw my arms over my chest in a sort of knee-jerk reaction. I was exhilirated and ashamed all at once. After a few minutes of silence as I stare in shock and awe at my now shameful, dirty pillows of sin, McKenna calls out for me to show her how it looks. The conversation through the dressing room door goes a little like this:
I don't want to be a wordly woman. Boys may like this:
But this is not who I am!