Let me tell you about my boobs, not that you asked.

It takes me FOREVER and a day to find a bra that fits. Now more so than ever. After I had Mateo, I smartly headed to our local bra shop for some nursing bras because they do real bra fittings. I've seen plenty of make-over shows where women do this sort of thing and it's like some great, mind-altering experience and they come out of the dressing room prancing and all perky and skinny with a board-straight back.

I, sadly, did not have that experience.

Since I was nursing and still super soft and gooshy from just having a baby, I just felt totally and completely unsexy and weird. The bra-ista (as they are called) who helped me was just a tad, well, weird. While I like reading weird, and I like some weird people, I really don't want a weird salesperson helping me while I'm trying to find some nursing bras that would hold up my two gynormous boobs. Leaking boobs, at that (I was using the nursing pads, so don't get too grossed out).

This is how bad the experience was: At one point, she went into the back storeroom to grab some "lounging" nursing bras (I still wear it on occasion cause it is darn loungy), when she came back with a....wait for it...MEOW!...leopard print loungy nursing bra.

Yes, as if you can even imagine such a thing.

I'm not a pink gal nor am I a ruffles gal or a girlie gal; I do not get my toes done or my fingers done or my eyebrows waxed. I'm pretty simple. And the idea of wearing an animal print nursing bra was just a tad much for me. Instead of bursting into tears and crumpling to the ground like I wanted to because all I wanted was a couple dang nursing bras and why is this kooky lady torturing me so? I politely declined even trying on the thing. I went with the more tasteful beige loungey nursing bra.

I walked out with two bras that I wore until I was finished nursing and then switched back to my old bras. My old bras that were made for pre-pregnant me and not post-baby me. And I'm really sick of being poked in the side of my arms by wire. Or yanking my bra straps back up over my shoulders every minute. Or feeling like my torso is going to be cut in half from the band. That's how badly they fit.

I decided a few weeks ago that I really should invest in some new bras that actually fit so I feel comfortable wearing them. Instead of trying on bras, I tried to just guess at my size, but I didn't guess correctly and had to return the bras I bought without trying on in the store. Yes, I know, stupid move on my part.

I decided I had to head back to that kooky-lady bra place, suck it up, and get fitted again.

Because I hem and haw and procrastinate whenever I have to call someone, instead of calling the bra place to make an appointment, I called my momma. To ask her if she knew if the bra place was open on the weekends. Because, you know, she would know that. Right?

She thought they were open on Saturday, but not on Sunday, and then told me JCPenney has trained bra fitters. This was news to me.

I hightailed it to the JCPenney website. Guess what they're having this weekend? A "bra event"! Free bra fittings! Whoohooo! Until Monday! And there is some super crazy, everything for a penny sale going on this Saturday (okay, not really). Free bra fitting plus super crazy sale equals sign me up.

I called our local store, and after maneuvering through their automated switchboard, I got to the lingerie department. This was the conversation I had with the lady, who sounded like she sandpapers her throat nightly:

Me: Yes, hi. I saw in your current ad your store is having a bra event, and I'd like to make an appointment for a fitting this Saturday.

Gravel voice lady: Oh, no, we can't do that. We're too busy.

Me: Um, well. Your ad states this event is only happening until the 24th, so I assumed this meant the weekend as well.

Gravel voice lady: Well...we're too busy. The store will be too busy. What about during the week?

Me: Well. Your big sale is Saturday, and I wanted to be fitted that day so I could buy bras on sale.

Gravel voice lady: Oh. Yeah. Well, we're really busy on the weekends. In fact, we'll be busy from now until Christmas. So we can't do it on the weekend. How about during the week?

Me: I really can't do it during the week.

(Not even a lie - I have to be in San Francisco all week until Thanksgiving.)

Gravel voice lady: Well...we're too busy.

Me: Okay. Never mind.

Gravel voice lady: Okay. Bye.

I thought stores were hurting for business? I thought the economy was slipping down a southern path to hell? I mean, with all the free this and extra percentage off of that, and just come in and take anything you want mailers and e-mails I get every single dang day, you'd think I would have gotten a bit better reception than, "We're too busy."

Instead of calling back and trying to talk to her manager since I was pretty sure I'd hear the same thing from that person, I just wrote JCPenney an e-mail about the whole conversation in hopes they send me a gift card or something (try it - sometimes it works!).

Of course, I haven't heard anything back from them. But I did get another coupon from the "President" of JCPenney, Ken C. Hicks. And since I'm not one of those gals who feels shopping for undergarmets is a female-only shopping excursion, I'm going to force my husband to use one coupon while I use another one because this gal loves to save a dime.