by Chris Price

Created on: October 25, 2008

Big Breaths

I have just discovered that when I was busy elsewhere I have had a horizontal growth spurt. We are not discussing a slight increase in size, but a whole shuddering three sizes. No more the excuse that my washing machine was shrinking the undies, no more the argument that my mirror was distorting.

I, along with a, quite literally, growing number of women have to face the fact that we are just getting bigger by the minute. It's the modern phenomenon brought about by junk food, modern farming methods and a predisposition to erring on the side of total hedonism.

Women, it is reported, are very sensitive about their breast size. It doesn't matter if they're big, small or indifferently hiding under the armpit, they're just wrong. In fact surgeons have made mega fortunes on women's insecurities on these, the most prominent points of feminine political agendas.

I discovered the truth, on one of my rare trips to purchase new clothes. I now, in my new reality, hate shopping for these items, so I usually do it on a splurge, buying several things at once so I can put off the horror for another indeterminable amount of time.

I decided it was time to have a professional measure so I approached an appropriate store for the task. The tape measure wielding sales person aimed for my chest with grim intent. She measured and came up with a number, nearer to my age than was comfortable.

"No, that's not right." I offered as my blood pressure went off the scale.

"I think it is," she gashed a smile. She tried again.

"Still the same." She looked at me smugly, waiting for a reaction. I was in shock.

"It can't be."

She called in an arbitrator, who tried again. She more or less confirmed my fate, with a slight alteration on the cup size.
One size smaller than the original estimate, so, hanging onto this small hope, I decided to listen to the second, obviously more experienced, woman. I left the changing room in a daze, my stomach following my chest and my ego as they made for the floor.

"Can I see what you have available in that size?" I asked.

"I'm afraid madam you are out of our range." She used a tone more suited to consoling the bereaved.

"Oh, wait yes we do have this one." She held up something that the designer obviously created in a drug infused haze as she dwelled on her hatred of grandmothers in general.

I tried to maintain my dignity. "Are you sure you haven't anything less...well...ugly?"

I resisted the urge to lie on the floor screaming as I listened to the list of shops

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