When I was an architecture student, one of the more interesting lectures, given by an engineer, jokily examined the brassiere as a example of structural engineering. So true!
Persuaded by an exceptionally keen salesgirl, I just acquired a bra that is built like a tank. It apparently fits me wonderfully (no overspills or wrinkles, no slippage or ongoing adjustment), and gives me the rounded figure of a DD cupsize, whereas before I had nothing (cupsize A), but it grips me with talons of steel, it has all the flexibility of a plaster cast. I take shallow little breaths. I consider before I move. And of course it's a lie- all structure and no content. I rattle around inside those cups like dried peas in a tin; there's enough spare room in there for my house keys. Vanity tipped the balance in the little changing room at the lingerie department. I bought the bra in white, black, and powder pink.
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