Confessions of a Full-Figured Gal

Go Figure!

Go Figure

Ah, the rituals and traumas of attaining womanhood, as our bodies changed from boyish little girls into more or less boyish bigger girls.  Besides the obvious big change that we all went through, there was also the great step into...The Bra.  Although you wouldn't believe it to look at me today, I was the last girl in my sixth grade class to begin wearing one.  I know that because the other girls, with the charming altruism and kindness of all sixth grade girls, informed me, daily, on the playground.  My mother, of course, had broached the subject to me before that, but, eh, what did she know.  My peers, however, finally convinced me that the time had come.

Do they still make 'training bras' for young girls?  Do you remember how annoying it was to have a useless band around your chest, with nothing to hold it in place?  Trying to pull it down, as it kept riding up into the armpits, while avoiding the smirks of the boys? The anxious wait to have something come along to fill those cups?  My, my, how things change as we get older.  It's come to my attention, in my second half-century of life, that at some point I became...Full Figured.

 Are you a full-figured gal?  Here are some easy ways to tell:

 1)  Food that you drop while eating never makes it to your lap.

2)  When you close your lingerie drawer, the underwires in your bras push it back open.

3)  Cleavage, on you, takes the form of a perfectly straight vertical line, and

4)  It starts right under your chin.

 If any of these is true, you may be Full Figured.  If all of them are, then you didn't really need to take this test, did you?  Speaking of tests, who among you readers is old enough to remember the “pencil test”?  Back in the liberated '70s, the theory was that if you didn't have enough volume to hold a pencil “underneath”, you could safely go braless.  If the pencil stayed in place, better to wear a bra.  If the pencil broke up into toothpicks, or the pressure turned the carbon into a diamond, then you are definitely Full Figured.

 As I have become more and more Full Figured, I have had ample reason to muse and reflect on the uniquely female experience of wearing a bra.  It's hard to believe that the bra as we know it originated less than a hundred years ago, when women's clothing  and undegarments became more simple and unstructured. Today we lucky women have access to undergarments ranging from items that look like they were designed and executed by the Army Corps of Engineers (these are for the really, really Full Figured) to Victoria's Secret and even Fredericks of Hollywood.  However, I confine myself (pun intended) to practical undergarments.

 Let's talk about those specialty stores for those of us who wear larger clothing sizes.  Sure, it's great to love your body, no matter what your size.  However, ladies, if we are wearing a “D” cup size, not a teacup size, who on earth wants a “demi” bra?  For the uninitiated (presumably some poor guy who has found himself in the bathroom with nothing to read except “All About You”), the demi bra does not offer what is tastefully referred to as “full coverage”.  Ladies, ladies.  “D” cup, “DD”, “DDD” and up, don't do it.  Who wants to see that? Think of the young people.  Let them keep their ideals.  They don't need to know what awaits them in the future.

It may come as a surprise to small and average-busted women that the padded straps on Full Figure bras are not for comfort.  They just fill in the shoulder groove so it isn't visible through your clothing.  For that uninitiated guy in the bathroom, I am not going to explain what causes shoulder grooves. As for underwires, I prefer them.  I've never been bothered by an underwire.  I understand that they can pop out of the fabric and spear you in the side, but frankly, once I have the bra on, that wire isn't going anywhere (see “pencil test”).  The biggest danger of the underwire bra is that if the boning in the sides is really effective, it causes the items contained therein to face directly forward.  Luckily, this doesn't look as strange as it used to now that we are accustomed to seeing women with implants.

 Then we have the 'minimizer', an item that is, strangely, not sold in stores for Full Figured women, though we are, surely, the ones they make them for, are we not?  I have tried a wide variety of minimizers, so I consider myself an expert. Who needs a minimizer?  Well, you can go back to the beginning of the article, or you can try the real acid test:  When you see a picture of yourself in a group of people, do you appear to be a large chest with a tiny little person following along behind?  If so, you may benefit from a minimizer.  Minimizers fall into two broad categories:  the inadvertent, or “mash 'em flat” minimizer, aka “wearing a size too small”, and, the actual minimizer, which through the miracle of modern architecture, rearranges what you have into a shape that you haven't.

 As each of us is an inividual with our own unique shape, it takes a bit of trial and error to find the best minimizer.  I, personally, own several varieties, some of which were terrible mistakes, but due to the expensive nature of these articles, I still wear them.  In the morning, I think, “What will I be wearing today?  Shall I be cone-shaped, egg-shaped, forward-projecting in one solid mass like a loaf of bread, or flattened like a potato pancake?” 

I remember my first minimizer.  It was a heavy-duty industrial model, designed by the Army Corps of Engineers, a brand not found in stores but only through specialty lingerie catalogues.  It certainly did the trick, and after just a little practice I soon learned to breath in it, taking shallow breaths like Scarlett O'Hara did when she was laced into her corset.  The real problem was the decorative lace, which, long after the rest of the bra wore out, I was able to use to scrub the stuck-on grime off of my outdoor grill.  Due to that lace, I developed callouses in places you don't want to know about.  I suppose it never occured to the designer that a bra comes into contact with the human body.  What, I was supposed to wear a t-shirt underneath?

 My most comfortable minimizers give me that unfortunate egg-shape, while the last one I bought causes me to look quite small, but with a retro, 1950s conical look.

 The best minimizer I have, by a well-known brand, is supposedly the best-selling minimizer in the country.  It's comfortable, it gives a nice natural shape, it's seamless - then some dingbat of a lingerie designer decided to put a butterfly applique, six inches wide, across the center.  Six inches wide.  So the wings of the butterfly stand out as visible bumps under my shirt at 3:00 and 9:00 on each side.  This must cause the idle viewer to wonder, “What is it??!!”  while trying not to stare.  I have news for designers of minimizer bras.  If I plan on wearing a baggy old sweatshirt, I don't need to wear a minimizer.  I wear a minimizer because I want to wear something fitted, or even clingy.  I'm an old-fashioned girl (emphasis on “old”).  If someone must stare at me, “What is it??!!” isn't the reaction I want to draw.    If I did, I could just as well get implants.  I would imagine that women with implants get used to that.  “What are they???!!!”

Finally, there's one other problem with minimizer bras.  Now the chest looks ok, but my butt looks big - but that's another article.