Finding Myself... or, my other half.

So I meet this guy.  He's like, totally different from all the other guys.  I'm enamored, he's enamored, truly love at first sight and we are HEAD over HEELS crazy about each other.

Oh yeah, he loves the rack, you betcha he does, and I love that he loves it.  He loves my earlobes, my toenails, hell, he loves my molars because they're part of me, and he loves every single solitary ugly or beautiful thing about me.  He's the real deal.

I think from time to time, oh my gosh, what the hell will happen to these boobs if I ever get pregnant?  I'm gonna need some kind of carry-all cart to function.  These thoughts fade, though, because I imagine that life with Mr. Right is a beautiful glittery rainbow dream.  No spawn of Mr. Right could ever cause me pain or strife!

So, we're engaged.  Everyone is elated.  Wedding gown shopping is a TRIP, because guess what folks?  Those gown samples are like... a size 8 or something.  I'm a size 14 on bottom and an 18-20 on top, if it's generously cut!  It's like a sausage.  Breast tissue squeezing floppily out the tops of these gowns and the salesladies are all, "Oh but when we order it in YOUR size and alter it, it'll be so flattering!"

I ended up going with a plus sized gown that could be taken in at the waist.  It was a beautiful strapless A-line gown (that's right sucka, strapless).  The top was beaded, the skirt was organza.  Strapless because quite frankly, encasing large breasts in any sort of gown can be a challenge... but anything with sleeves or cap-sleeves only serves to further bind the tissue, rendering the wearer unable to lift the arms and dance.  The strapless gowns would at least allow me to raise my arms.

HONEYMOON IN MEXICO!  A week of lying on the beach with my HUSBAND!  Nothing to do but bask in the glow of marriage, stare at our wedding rings, and drink daiquiris.

In bathing suits.  Well shit.  Now I have to go swimsuit shopping again.

I ended up with the ever-so-tropical and sexy... black tankini.  Only thing I could find with a DDD cup.  It had an actual underwire bra inside so that was a big selling point (though I did need assistance getting into/out of the top and snapping the bra closure).  I loathed the "normal" women who could wear adorable sundresses and prance around in bikini tops and sarongs on their honeymoon.

For the next 6 years, that was my go-to swimsuit.  Sure, I looked like I was trying to be sexy with my 4" of cleavage when we'd take the kids to the neighborhood pool, but it was really my best option.