-image-Shocking Revelations: Bra-Fitting with HollowSquirrel

May 19, 2011 | a girl's gotta shop

Some of you expressed concern or potential embarrassment at having your boobies measured by a stranger in order to obtain the Perfect Fitting Bra.

That last line should be reason enough to quell the butterflies in your stomach and get thee to your local reputable department store lingerie section (or, as Nugget announces gleefully and LOUDLY: BOOTIFUL BRAS!!!! THEY HOLD UP YOUR BOOBIES AND KEEP THEM COZY! and then races between the racks pinching the fabric and declaring which ones are mine (plain) and which ones clearly aren’t (lace)).

Nugget is available to accompany you. Please email me directly.

Ask an associate if there’s someone available for a bra-fitting. Make sure they look official (measuring tape in hand is a good sign). Drooling male employee with hand jammed in pocket moving rhythmically? Not a good sign. Stick with the female employees, my loves.

The woman who measured my droopies did so over my existing pathetic bra. I think they want to see what you’re currently wearing, and unless it’s a heavily padded number, I’m guessing they all do it over, since they just measure around the ribcage/bra band and then from the band up to the middle of your nip-nops.

A good bra fitter/saleswoman will help you pick out some styles/brands for you and check back to see the fit. You want a good fit, right? So pretty she’s your beloved Aunt Sally and ask for her help. If she’s in your personal space, ask for some privacy. If she’s rude, end the Aunt Sally charade and head to a different store– and just think, if you have your own blog, what a great story this will make!

GO FORTH AND GET THEE SOME NEW BOOBIE HOLDERS!

-image-The Projects

May 18, 2011 | "project!",Sewing

I’ve been busy sewing. I may have a slight fabric-purchasing obsession.

I made skirts and bows for a pair of adorable sisters:

And a set for my niece:

I made a lot of bows:

and a sleeping bag for Kitty Cat:

Yes, I even bought hideous cat-covered fabric for my Nugget, who clutched the bolt to his chest, begging me to buy it. I bought the smallest cut possible then made something for his beloved Kitty Cat.

Don’t make me post a picture of the mini wooden cradle (now painted green!) in which Kitty Cat and her sleeping bag nestle. I must be stopped.

-image-Sometimes I Don’t Mind the Rain

May 15, 2011 | family

We didn’t let the steady rain keep us from the downtown, outdoor farmers’ market this morning.

It’s our Sunday tradition, and I think the boys had even more fun than usual stomping in puddles and standing under downspouts.

The forecast for the week shows rain every. single. day. I guess I shouldn’t have given away my rainboots.

-image-Some Simple Math

May 9, 2011 | a girl's gotta shop,Me

I’ve owned the same bras for decades, and I’ve worn most of them once or twice. Before I became pregnant with Jojo, I rotated between a few boring bras — nothing sexy or colorful. Then I became pregnant and had to buy some pregnancy/nursing bras, which I wore for another year or so. When I finally finished nursing Jojo, I slipped back into the few boring bras, but I remember seeing the others at the bottom of my bra drawer and thinking, ‘well, just in case.’ Just in case of WHAT? I haven’t a clue, but what does one do with bras in great condition that one wants to get rid of– is that something that’s ok to donate? I have an aversion to throwing out things that are perfectly fine. I’m dropping stuff off at charities or those drop boxes in parking lots weekly.

After finishing the marathon nursing YEARS with Nugget, I’ve found that I wear the same two bras off and on for… well, months now. They don’t fit for shit. I could probably sew a better fitting bra than what I’ve been wearing. I was constantly tugging up the falling straps, and they didn’t offer support. I was a droopy, sloppy mess.

FINALLY, I did something about it, told my husband I had to run to the mall, and hit Macy’s during one of their big One Day Sales (oops) to get measured and find some new bras.

Luckily, a kind saleswoman saw my look of fear from drowning in the satiny nude sea of bosomwear and scurried me into a fitting room. With one dismissive wave, she announced I, like 8 out of 10 women, was wearing the wrong size. I knew that, but why had I waited so long? The bra was a WRECK. It’s been tossed (and it’s doppleganger). Three in total were outright thrown away (a huge step for me, but seriously, no one needs those travesties).

She found a perfect, reasonably priced bra on her first try, and I left with four in hand (and some serious savings thanks to their sale and additional couponage).

Let me just say, I have a lot more room in my bra drawer. I might need to move some unmentionables (yes, I do keep some things unmentioned) into there.

I started Saturday with 20 bras (not including sports bras). Mind you, I only really wore three of these when not hugely pregnant or nursing. I tossed those raggedy three and am going to try and donate seventeen others. 17.

I now own four awesome bras. That is all. I love them. Clearly, I’ll need a few more so I’m not handwashing my hands off (haha…I toss them in the wash…who am I trying to kid).

If you’re hating your bras, let me highly recommend having a stranger measure your boobies and scoring yourself some new bras.

I’m sure Keven loved this post. I realize I’m lame.

-image-Are you Blogging Me?

May 4, 2011 | blog business,The Nugget

I drag poor Nugget to Target at least once a week, but he DOES so enjoy playing with the different toys and hasn’t yet thrown a fit when we don’t buy one.

I realize I just set myself up for Nugget’s First Target Tantrum.

Jojo has had two major Target tantrums — one, I dragged him kicking and screaming out of the store leaving a cartful of needed diapers. The other, I ran after him out of the store while a nice stranger carried Nugget (by then screaming because WHO IS THIS PERSON CARRYING ME?!?!?!).

Jojo ran to the end of the strip mall and slid between the two lines of Bed, Bath and Beyond carts and screamed gibberish which probably only Satan himself could have translated.

It was horrific and maddening and EMBARRASSING and so tiring.

But this isn’t about Visiting Tantrums of Yore, no no no, this is about Nugget’s latest Target Toy Obsession:

You probably can’t see what that red arrow is pointing at on the little laptop, but I swear on my third nipple that it says “BLOG.”

Dear Lord, I hadn’t thought about the ironic horror of someday finding my son’s blog. Can I have at least a few more years to myself, LeapFrog?