Thursday, September 04, 2014

Jordan/"Deirdre " - Can we never talk about my tits again?

It's been hot in the city for the past couple of weeks, and cramming three human beings into my apartment with its shitty air conditioning hasn't been the best, so we've all been a little on edge. I think we've all looked for some sort of excuse to get out of it as much as we could, which is why I was at an afternoon movie a couple days back, only to emerge into a thunderstorm, the sort that doesn't even do anything to get the temperature down. I was able to run to the subway easy enough, but it was still raining and I had a bit of a walk at the other end.

At first, it just ticked me off a little, especially since I haven't gotten a haircut since changing - I inherited a sort of pixie-ish style from Dierdre, but that was almost two months ago, so it's had time to grow out, and nobody tells girls that they're looking kind of shaggy when they don't get a trim every few weeks. I eventually got to my apartment, where Benny and Annette were playing Kinect Sports, although that went off the rails when Benny just started staring at me. I pushed some of that stringy hair out of my face and asked something along the lines of what the fuck are you staring at, perv?

Benny mumbled nothing started playing the game again, but kept looking my direction as I went to get a soda out of the fridge. That's when Annette hit pause, put her controller down, and said "fine, I'll be the one to ask! Jordan, do you even own a bra?"

I looked down, and, okay, my t-shirt was clinging right to my skin, and even if it wasn't particularly stretched, my nipples were making an impression on it. It was just light enough that maybe you could see the dark patch around it, but not really. "For these little things? What's the point?"

Annette started to roll her eyes - his eyes, I guess, because she looks like Ravi - and starts saying that she is not gong to rise to that bait when Benny brings his hands up to his chest, says that he gets it, that I'm used to going without despite having more, but if he could have some support for these "moobs", he would certainly appreciate it.

I threw the soda at him and went to my room. I heard Annette smack the back of Benny head more than saw it, and then a couple of minutes later she knocked on my door. "Hey, can I apologize to your face?" I open, and she steps in.

"I'm sorry for blurting that out. It's just that we all know guys look at any boobs available, and while you may not think you're carrying a lot around up top for one reason or another..." She looked up at some of the comics posters on the wall, and I kind of got the implication. "... you do have enough to get someone's attention. Besides, when mine were that size, I was pretty glad to have a bra on. Heck, as soon as you can wear a training bra, it's kind of nice. I miss mine."

"Bullshit."

"For real! It made me feel grown up, just as much as... Well, you know." Yeah, I knew. "I mean, I'm bigger and have the other thing and need to shave, but part of me and my routine is missing."

I was a bit skeptical, but the weird thing about Annette is that this really annoyingly optimistic kid comes through even using Ravi's face and voice. "Fine," I said, "we'll go bra shopping."


I bet you'd like a whole lot of talk about going into Victoria's Secret and changing rooms and stuff like that, but it wasn't that exciting. Annette got a ruler and some string and figured out a rough guess at my size, and then we went to the department store and I tried some on. I will say that "vanity sizing" is a real pain in the butt - I'm apparently right on the border between A and B cups, with the more honest brands calling me an A and others saying I'm a B.

Then there was the whole style thing; Annette mostly talked me out of ones that squeezed everything down, saying that it got pretty uncomfortable after a few hours. Eventually, I found a few that were pretty comfortable. Annette insisted I got at least one that traded a bit of comfort for some lift, which was kind of weird. It wasn't that much more of a pinch, but looking in the mirror in the changing room, it was the first time I really saw myself having cleavage without pushing my breasts together with my hands. I noticed the bra was there a bit more, but it didn't really feel like someone squeezing me.

I tried to say no, and Annette tried to talk me out of it. That's when some of the folks in the store who had been kind of amused by this Hindu guy explaining about bras to his petite Irish-looking girlfriend started giving her disapproving looks, which was weird in its own way. As much as I wanted her to back off, it sucks to have people look at me like I needed protecting from some predatory guy who was pressuring me to look sexy. I think I eventually relented more to piss them and their idea that I was some sort of helpless girl off.

The funny thing is, that one hasn't become my favorite bra or anything - I've only been wearing them for a few days, and I do like the ones that I notice the least the most - but the other one does do a bit to make me look less like a kid. I suppose it'll help with not getting carded in bars or something.

But, man, I hope this is the last time we have this conversation in my apartment. You really have no idea what it's like having someone with your proper face talking about your tits that way.

-Jordo

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