Big Boob Meltdown
Infamous big boob problem: button-down shirts.
Unavoidable situation: ultra-formal interview.
Countdown to interview: nervous googling, unsuccessful shopping, major profanity, unbridled frustration and tears melting together into one giant hot mess.
I have a suit that is pretty fantastic and fits me well. I got the sleeves tailored a few days ago, but put off figuring out the clothes underneath until two days pre-interview because I was busy, you know, working the job that I do have now. It’s my first skirt suit (and I will never understand why it’s more conservative to walk around pants-less) and the super-high waist of the skirt was really awkward at first but now I’m used to it.
But holy shit, how am I supposed to dress underneath without looking like
a) I got run over by the distressed wrinkle monster;
b) I am all boob and nothing else;
c) I am tent, hear me swim;
d) I am balloon, watch me float;
e) I am being asphyxiated by my own clothing;
or f) all of the above plus some??
If I size down, I gape through the top buttons and destroy all semblance of being in a piece of shaped clothing when I lift my arms.
If I size up, I gape through the bottom buttons and destroy all semblance of being in a piece of shaped clothing when I lift my arms.
In both cases, the shirt folds in under my bust in the most amazing display of awkwardness since ever, and tucked-ness goes straight to hell if I move a muscle. Also, I can basically fit another person on my back in my shirt. All the shirts.
Because it’s fun to have my nerves played with by unwieldy clothing rather than making myself the best interviewee for the job, right? RIGHT?
(I am now home from this interview, and I’m having no luck trying to calm down about it. I’m thinking about giving myself some temporal leeway with this blog just to ease off on self-pressuring for a while, but I wanted to get this post out and away first.)