Deja vu all over again

I have strep, again. But my doctor quit--why do they keep doing this to me?--so I had to go to the other doctor at the same office.

First of all, I KNOW I have strep. The test came out negative, but the nurse didn't do it right. I hate to admit this, much less go through it, but that swab test for strep should NOT be gentle. It should hurt, and it should gag you; if it doesn't, they didn't swab hard enough, and they didn't hit the right spots.

Luckily, my doctor agreed that the test was wrong. In fact, I don't even know if they bothered to do the test, since the doc came back in much sooner than it takes the test to incubate (10-15 minutes).

I have a question for doctors: What the fuck is up with giving out Prednisone like candy? I had it last fall for my jaw, and the doc gave me a shot yesterday because my throat was swollen enough she feared I might end up with a blocked airway before the antibiotics kicked in.

Now, that stuff is great in the short term, but it eventually wrecks your immune system. So I'm hoping that for the next three to infinity years I won't need any, because my immune system is fucked up enough already.

The result is that right now I'm a little hyper.


Which leads me to a totally different WTF? rant.

Bras. Research has shown that most women buy the wrong size bra, and the manufacturers are confused.

Idiots.

Have you ever read the instructions for measuring bra size? Here's how: my version.

1. Put on your best fitting bra. Wait, no, don't do that. Just look at the tag, check the size, and go out and buy the exact same one, but new, in all the available colors. Oh, since it's your favorite, the tag is so faded that you can't read it? Oh, crap. Okay, put it back on.

2. Now get a tape measure. I know it's in your sewing kit or junk drawer. Just find it. You can't? Okay, get a belt or twine or something, and your kid's 6" ruler that they couldn't find last week because it was IN THEIR DESK, RIGHT WHERE IT BELONGS!

3. Wrap the tape measure (belt, twine, computer cable that was laying on your desk) around your rib cage, just below your boobs. Take a deep breath.

This is where reality varies from what manufacturers tell you.

I say, whatever the number is, is your band size. It says 34 inches? You're a 34. It says 35 inches? You're a 36. (Some companies actually do sell odd-numbered band sizes, but they're expensive, and damn, there's more than one set of hooks on a regular bra anyway.)

4. Now the manufacturers say to, and I kid you not, ADD FIVE (5) TO THAT NUMBER, AND THAT IS YOUR BAND SIZE!

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

They also say to measure above your boobs, under your arms, and this should be the same as the measurement below your boobs+5. (Mine never has been. It's always been the same, or maybe my first number is 34 and my next number is 35. NEVER 39)

According to the manufacturer, my band size should be 40. If I got a 40, it wouldn't stay under my boobs. It would just be a lace and lycra necklace, and not a very attractive one, at that.

So, my instructions are to skip measuring above your boobs and skip adding 5 to you rib cage measurement. I think manufacturers do this so we buy the wrong size on purpose, and they go back and try again, so they make more money.

5. Finally, measure your boobs. "At the highest point," says the manufacurers. "WELL DUH!" say BeerPup. But not necessarily over your nipples. After seeing a lot of plastic surgery reality shows on TV, I now realize a lot of women's nipples are in weird places, bless their hearts.

Well, back to measuring. Whatever that number is, subtract the rib cage number (the manufacturer says rib cage+5) from it. The cup size is the difference in the two.

1=A (and what the fuck do you think you need a bra for? Put band-aids on your nipples when a bra is socially required, and be glad you saved the money. Acually I suggest 3M brand bandages because they don't contain laytex and are less likely to irritate your skin.)

2=B (see above)

3=C (Lucky you! You get to wear all the cute bras! And they only cost $15 at Target! I hate you.)

4=D (You still might get lucky at Target if you're a 36 or above, but we're getting into armored territory now.)

5=DD (Welcome to the $50 a bra club, unless you get lucky at Kohl's!)

6=EEE (Welcome to the chiropractor!)

You will see, that according to the manufacturers, I am a 40A. Lots of you have seen my Great Rack, and it ain't no 40A.

34DD, thank you.

Before I had kids, I was a 32DD, and it was nearly impossible to find a bra in a normal store. I wore a lot of sports bras, which my husband said functioned something like the package on Pillsbury biscuits. I didn't love the sports bras, since I serously dislike the uni-boob look, but when you're broke and don't want to have to go out and purchase something a Valkyrie would wear, you do what you gotta.

Now, sometimes I can find bras that fit and don't cast an arm and a leg, though I usually end up in a 36D because it's "Good enough."

So that, dear bra manufacturers, is why women wear the wrong size bras.