Jumbly Protection

Boobs. These cannot make an appearance—full, part, or any sort of outline jiggliness or points—on my wedding day. I don’t have what you would call “guns”, or “tots”, or even “bazamzams,” but I do, being a female, have boobs. Thusly, a bridally “booby-holster,” as the bridesmaids call it, must be purchased. It shall make me look svelte and tight and perfection in all my glory.

The dress—the dress—is empire waisted with a glittery band at the waist aka directly under the boobs. This makes for a pretty good automatic strapless bra, actually, seeing as it sections off a boob-sized piece and cinches tightly underneath. However, I have been told that no matter what size tatas, kind of dress, etc., I wear on my wedding day, some semblance of a bra is mandatory. I guess you just never know, and being the center of attention maybe ain’t so nice with a nipple peeking out. Plus, I know I’ll be somewhere between tipsy and drunk—and dancing my ass off—so I should really be strapped in regardless of my small stature-of-the-chest. To the bra store we go.

One thing Fiancé is good for: lingerie shopping.