I am bloody well sick of women making fun of my breast size! At Victoria's Secret, the fact that I was a 32 G was comical to the salespeople. So comical, in fact, that they laughed and told me they couldn't help me. At Agent Provacateur, they tried to convince me just to settle for a size that wasn't mine and be grateful they had something that even sort of fit me. "It fits okay," said the salesgirl, "So you should get it." Yeah, so everyone else gets bras that actually fit well, whereas I have to settle for just "okay"? That's so ironic, as I'm the kind of girl to whom having a good quality bra that does its job matters most! If I don't have the proper support, I get back pain. Having these tits is like wearing really having grocery bags strapped to your chest at all times!
Today, I went to a "Fancy dress store" in London to get my Halloween costume. When I told the woman I needed something that would fit my breasts, then informed her what that size was, she replied, "I don't know what that is, but that sounds huuuge!" What to other your customer. I will be sure to call again. Why do my breasts have to be treated like circus freaks? My lady parts deserve just as much respect as yours do. They grew like this naturally. I didn't choose this, but why do all salespeople I meet act as though I should be ashamed of it?
In the end, I had to buy the one costume that covered my boobs but wasn't three sizes too big everywhere else. So, it looks like I'll be dressed up as Little Miss Muffet at my residence hall's fancy dress Halloween Party. Yes, I know clothes aren't made for me. I know most women are not a 32 G. I get it. I get that most size six (British size ten) dresses won't fit me in the bust, and that I'll have to buy bigger ones and get them altered. I get it. I might not like it, because it is very inconvenient for me, but I get it. The only thing I don't get is why everyone has to treat me like such a freak! I have tits! Deal with it!