File this under you get what you pay for

I've always had a love/hate relationship with my bra. Well, mostly hate. First of all, I had to start wearing a bra when I was in the 4th grade. Not many girls at age nine require a bra, but lucky me, I got started early. Can you imagine the bra strap popping? By the time I was in high school, I had the unfortunate nickname "TQ" (Titty Queen). Now, imagine 20 fraternity pledges chanting, "TQ, TQ, TQ!" in the student section during homecoming. (Quite thankfully, one of the seniors made those pledges do pushups until they couldn't move their arms.) In the past few months, my current bras have become unbearable. My back hurts; my rib cage is sore.

I gave up on Victoria's Secret years ago. The 12 year olds working there know nothing. Their products fall apart, and a girl in a B cup just doesn't understand the woes of one in a D cup. So I went to buy new ones at Macy's, and came closer to assault than a purchase. Joe found me sweating, cursing and slightly bleeding. (I fell into a metal rack!)

While trying lure me out of the over-packed department store, he told me he'd seen a store down the mall that claimed to be the bra fitting experts -- Intimacy. The store was going to be way more expensive than what I normally spent on bras. We went in, and they were booked, but a woman checking out told me to make an appointment to come back the next day that the experience would change my life. I took that under advisement and took note that all the women working in the store were, well, let's just say they could relate to my problem. I went back the next day.

Before I go any further, let me tell you that I'm not in any way (other than my current undergarments) connect to Intimacy, nor have I or will I receive any compensation for what I'm about to say.

I've been fitted for bras before, and as a conscientious adult woman, I'm long past feeling awkward about someone inspecting my breasts, much less my bra. Even if I weren't, this lovely young woman named Alison was incredibly knowledgeable and made the fitting fun. Turns out my bra was the wrong size to start. Next, I wasn't wearing it right. Who knew after 25 years of wearing one!?

I now know I'm not a 36D -- I'm an 34F. I know how they're supposed to fit, and that when they do fit, my back doesn't hurt! I felt a difference before I even left the store. I also now know that the money I'd tried to save buying cheap bras, cost me a lot more.