I woke up yesterday with two goals in mind. First, purchase a grown-up bed. Second, buy some new bras. Seems like easy enough goals, huh?

Sister #3 and I set out shopping around 10:30 a.m. it was a rainy, drizzly Saturday morning– perfect for shopping. We slide into Slumberland and return 35 minutes later. I love spending a cool grand before noon. One goal met. . . now we just need to bring on the bras!

She goes first and damn is she lucky. When it comes to mammary endowments, Sister #3 and I come from two different gene pools. She?s slender and petite. I am not. She gets to buy this little stringy things they call bras for about $6.42 a piece. I am most envious. Shopping for such tiny bras is a new experience for me. She is not amused when I ask her if she buys those doofy bras with the padding in them. “Those are the only kind I wear,” she says. Woops. This amazes me. I cannot stop poking my fingers into the padded cups. I cannot imagine what it’s like to have my breasts encased in a quarter inch of foam rubber. All I can think is, “it must be warm in the winter.”

So, she gets 4 bras for less than I pay for one and while I am a tad bit bitter about it, we go on to the next store. Ohh, I love bra shopping. I love buying satiny, shiny soft things. Sister #3 is amazed. “These cups can fit on my head,” she says. Uh gee, thanks. Here is where the trouble starts. Sister #3 is a firm believer that those with large breasts should not buy satiny, silky, shiny pretty things to hold them up. Her theory is, you don’t need any other accessories to make such breasts more attractive. She thinks the size is attractive enough. She?s wrong, dead wrong.

As I am digging through the racks of brightly colored soft shiny bras, Sister #3 continues on her rant. ?Why do you waste the money? You don?t need to buy such nice bras.? Argh! ?I like buying sexy, girlie bras,? I tell her, ?they make me feel more feminine.?

That, right there, that was my fatal mistake.

I think her eyeballs actually popped out of their sockets. She turned three different shades of red and I cowered waiting for the venom that was to spew forth momentarily.

?What in the hell is the point of buying something so feminine if you are going to cover it up with ugly manshirts and baggy pants??
?Hey, I like this shirt.?
?It?s a manshirt.?
?So??
?Here, if you want to feel more feminine, let me show you how you should dress.?

For someone who is only 5?4? she sure is damn strong. She pulled me to the front of the store and within 23 seconds, filled her arms with clothes. Then she shoved me into a dressing room and threw the clothes in after me.

?It looks like I am wearing a muumuu.?
?let me see!?
?I ain?t coming out with this muumuu on.?
?Try the shirt with the collar and put the white shirt over it.?
?Oh my god, we have cleavage!?
?If you got, it flaunt it, now come out and let me see.?
?I look like the prow of a ship!?
?Come out!?
?Tracy, you can see superman!?
?Get out here and lemme see.?
?Wow! You look like a girl.?
?I feel like a hussy.?
?It?s just gonna take some getting used to. Now c?mon you look really cute.?

What can I say? I am a sucker for compliments. I walked out of that store $150 lighter and not a bra in the bag.

So, this whole escapade?s got me thinking about breasts. Yes, we women do think about breasts too. Some of us even check out other women?s breasts, more for comparison than to ogle.

I?ve had a love/hate relationship with my breasts for as long as I can remember. I love them, they give me pleasure and they look pretty good. My sister is right. I got a great rack. But at the same time, they drive me batty.

I was the first girl in the fifth grade to wear a bra. That was a joyous year. That was the year the boys decided the best recess pastime on earth was snapping one?s bra strap. And damnit, that hurts.

In the eighth grade my girlfriends would get angry because the boys liked to talk to me, or rather they liked to talk to my breasts. Cathy Schmitt always accused me of flaunting my wares. I wasn?t flaunting anything, I couldn?t help that I stuck out in front.

I can?t buy those flimsy, stringy $6 bras. And that?s just not fair!

Sometimes it?s hard to get a man to look you in the eye. When I was a newspaper reporter, I had one editor who never, not once, looked me in the eye. He talked to my breasts. Most men I give the benefit of the doubt. I am tall; sometimes they only come up to breast level. But this man talked to my breasts even if we were both sitting down.

Overall, I think I?ll keep them. I have friends who had breast reduction. I cannot even imagine that. Being such a tall woman, sometimes it?s hard to feel feminine. I am called sir a lot by store clerks who aren?t paying attention. So sometimes, it?s nice to have such protruding femininity out there for all the world to see.

So what in the hell is the point of all this? Nothing really, I just wanted to talk about breasts. Also, next weekend I am going bra shopping, sans Sister #3.