My bra shouldn’t come with a “front cup size” and a “back cup size” option.

To celebrate most of the snow being melted in this part of the world (I say, “most” because I noticed that the 10 foot drift that was in the ditch by our road still remains, but only in an ankle deep pile of mud encrusted pile ice crystals), I decided to do some shopping. My first mistake.

My second was trying to do it during Bloat Week. You know the one: the one that precludes the first day of your period? Oh yeah, baby. At least I’ll know that no matter how much an article of clothing shrinks in the wash, it will fit me the other 3 weeks of the month.

My third mistake was to go again the following weekend with my sister to a store that apparently doesn’t follow the norms in sizing. Seriously? When did my butt suddenly require double-digit sizes to get covered??

A question I posed to my sister when the following conversation took place as I examined aforementioned ass in the three-to-fifty-way mirror.

“How do this look?” I asked, as I peered at the rear-view taking in the back-fat and muffin-top and newly emerging upper arm flap.

My sister grimaced.

“Man, I’ve gained a lot of weight. Why the hell didn’t you notice me getting fat so I could have stopped getting fat?!”

“Well…” she started, tentatively.

“What?!”

“I did notice. It was when you were trying to get pregnant.”

A thoughtful pause.

“Oh. I guess that really wouldn’t have been a good time to tell me, would it have?”

“No.”

“I was pretty homicidal then, wasn’t I…” I concluded.

“Yes.”

My goal now is to lose 10 pounds within the next couple of months. We have a Wii Fit but I don’t care for it. I’m going to see what classes are available while Doodicus is doing his soccer thing at the Y. I can’t stand the way I look anymore and since I don’t have $50,000 in the bank to pay for lipo, I’m actually going to have to start sweating it off.

Physical exercise has a tendency to make me a bit homicidal as well, but I hear prison can have a nice fitness regimen.