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bear by san

March 2017



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the heartbreak of armpit fat.

I have just discovered the official silliest piece of fatphobia I have ever encountered in my born days.

Apparently, we are all now supposed to be terrified of exposing our unsightly armpit fat.

Based on my admittedly cursory internet research, and exemplified by the image above, I would worry about the health consequences for any woman concerned with armpit fat, because it would suggest that she is not doing her breast self-exam properly. What we see above, in the damning orange circles, is in fact part of the boob. And the problem is that Madam is not wearing a properly-fitting bra, as the one illustrated above is at least two cup sizes too small and one band size too large. The little metal bits (we call them 'underwires') are meant to lie flat against the ribcage, not sit halfway up Mount Doom like the track of a sidehill hoofer.

Why yes, I am supposed to be writing a novel. Why do you ask?

But the patriarchy is in my armpits. Some things just can't wait.


I'm sure they don't. But the nearest place I could go for a fitting--IF it's available--is 70 miles away, and I tend to put on weight as soon as I lose it, that would be a hell of a lot of driving.

So I tend to go braless at home, with gratitude. My mother would be appalled, God rest her.
You can do it yourself with a friend and a measuring tape--and at least get a pretty good guess.

Seriously, comfortable bras are life changing.

Herroom has a pretty good list of fit problems and how to correct them.