No F-ing Way

The other night I did something against my better judgement. I went to a "Panty Party".  Settle down, it's not as risque as it sounds.  Essentially, a bunch of women get together at this local lingerie boutique to drink champagne and try on bras. Okay, maybe it is as risque as it sounds.  But that has nothing to do with why I didn't want to go.

In case you didn't already know this, I'm a bit self-conscious about my body - especially my boobs.  If I had to choose one part of my body that I would never have to look at again there would be a knock-down-drag-out between my boobs and my muffin top. Muffin top would probably win, but boobs would definitely go down fighting.

So, it's no surprise that the thought of trying on bras with other women - women who happen to be younger, thinner and higher/fuller/more appropriately-chested that I am was not high on my list.  So, why in the world would I go?

First, I adore the friend who invited me.  The combination of the Spicy Chicken's travel, the girls' school/sports schedules and my influx of work lately has allowed little room for anything else. I was really craving time with girlfriends.  Secondly, I caught myself saying - aloud in front of M - that I didn't want to go because I "hated" my body. Yep, get out the cuffs because I totally deserve to go to Teen Parenting Jail for that one!  While my girls are not oblivious to my weight, I have always tried to make a point of telling and showing them that I love myself regardless of my size, and that my focus is always on my HEALTH. Oops.  So I had to do a little doubling back to show her that I wasn't afraid of getting naked with all those skinny bitches because damn if I'm not proud of the big 'old boobs that God gave me.  And lastly, I really actually needed some new bras.

I ended up having a really good time and - as a bonus - got to spend some quality time with a few friends I hadn't seen in awhile. While some women were completely okay with trying on bras in front of other people, some were not -  either was totally acceptable.  I kept to one of the back dressing rooms with the curtain closed, of course, but nobody seemed to care - or even notice for that matter.  While I admit it completely threw me off when the saleswoman brought me a 34F to try on, my boobs looked so freakin' awesome in that bra that I bought two of them!

Moral of the story is - sometimes you just have to let go of your insecurities because they are just that - yours.  The people who love and know you don't care what size pants or shirt or bra you wear.  They love you for who you are - and if you spend your life hiding behind your weight you will miss out on a lot of good times.  And that, my friends, is the f-ing truth.