Bra’s are annoying

And there goes my “image”,

if I had one.

I really do have a serious blog waiting to come out.

But tonight is not the night.

I had a busy day, well,
a day where I was gone.

All day.

Emma had a dance workshop, which is a fancy way of saying extra practice, this morning.

And then she danced for the Lieutenant General of Ontario this afternoon.

I saw real secret service men, if they are called that in Canada.

What are they called in Canada?

Anyway, there were two of them.

And one very decorated military guy.

Here it is:

Very cool for our girls.

And he was a very nice guy.

Check the Goderich papers,

a reporter was there, and there were official pictures taken.

Anyway, since I’ve been diggin’ ditches, and caring for chicks, and planting gardens, 

it’s been a while since I dressed up.

And put on make-up.

Like probably a month since I’ve put on make-up.

Today I did.

And I put on my “good” bra.

You know, the one that makes the girls look spectacular.

Since having babies, a bra that excels in lift and separation is da bomb.

I have an everyday bra.  The one that contains the girls, so they don’t get in the way as I’m digging trenches, planting flowers, riding horses, etc.

This bra is very industrial.  Not pretty.

Does a very hard job, and does it well.

It’s the kind that if I ever get stuck on a desert island, I could use it as a sail, and get off said island.

Big and strong.

Sturdy.

And then there is my going out bra.





This one is the Angelina Jolie of bras.





It only performs on the most important of occasions.






It has lift and separation down to an art.

Makes me look like I haven’t been pregnant six times, and haven’t nursed four babies.

It has adjustable straps, so if I want strapless, it will try it’s best (not that THAT ever works), but it will go cross, halter, side hook-up, whatever.

Like, the PORSCHE of bra’s.




Except.



Oh, that ruins everything.






It is unbelievably uncomfortable.

See, it has amazing super powers.
But it extracts it’s revenge on shoulders.

Oh yes.
Nothing comes cheap.
Especially an awesome rack.
All you women know what I’m saying.





So I’m sitting here, typing my nightly blog
sans bra.



I just couldn’t stand it anymore.
The girls were rebelling at being so contained.


Cramped.


They were suffocating.








But DARN, did they look good.

Maybe in another month I’ll corral them again;




maybe I’ll stick to the comfy
“boobs at my elbows”
position, and give them a break.




They’ve definitely earned the break.

If you will still read this blog,
tomorrow I'll try to get the serious subject out of my head and into here.




You may find it uplifting.





But not as uplifting as my "good" bra.