Drawer full o' perk

I have to believe that "first lingerie-shopping trip after having a baby" is pretty high up on the list of things that new moms would rather avoid. I managed to put it off for 10 months, dreading the thought of facing all those lithe plastic mannequin bodies with perky bosoms and thong-ready haunches. The only thing my haunches are ready for is a cellulite treatment, and "perky" fails to describe so many parts of my body that I don't even know where to start the list. I'd like to take a moment to publicly apologize to my mother for ever snickering at her "girls" when I was a teenager - you were right, Mom, mine were headed the same direction, I just didn't know it yet.

Ahem. Anyway, I'm still nursing Liza, so until recently I haven't been too concerned that all I have to wear is saggy baggy nursing bras that make me want to hide in a corner any time my shirt is off. But since she's been starting to cut back on the nursing (and I've bought some new shirts that don't look too great without some, um, support) I've needed to go shopping for new bras. Bra shopping is second only to jeans shopping on my list of Top Ten Ways I'll Be Tortured When I Get To Hell, even without a baby who tends to wail like a banshee anytime she enters a dressing room. (Also on that list: installing a whole houseful of quarter-round molding in a house with uneven floors and warped walls ... but that's another story). A couple of months ago I tried to look for bras at the local mall, but that trip was frustrating for both of us - I couldn't find a style and size that fit, and Liza's screaming made the ears of the dressing room attendant bleed.

But Liza's been doing fairly well on shopping trips recently, as long as she has been sufficiently sated with carbohydrates and plied with jangly toys. So after lunch today we made the excursion to Victoria's Secret, home of overpriced lingerie and really annoying commercials. Since I knew my time was limited - keys and crackers only buy me about 20 minutes of scream relief - I threw myself on the mercy of one of the strangely identically dressed sales associates. I swear, if she hadn't been the only Asian salesperson, I never would have been able to pick her out from the others. Anyway, she measured me and then handed me a drawer, one of about 40 in a little bureau in the dressing area. It turns out there's one drawer for each size the store carries, and each drawer has one of each of the most popular bra styles in that size. So in one fell swoop I got to try on almost all of the bras that could possibly fit me ... it was a revelation, like having a personal shopper or something.

There was an episode of What Not to Wear where the fashion victim was given a day of shopping at an exclusive boutique in Paris, and the sales associates had a dressing room set up for her with every piece of clothing in her size from the entire inventory. My trip to Vicky's wasn't quite that nice, but I have to say, those little drawers ROCK. I would have been in and out of the dressing room half a dozen times if it hadn't been for the drawer o' bras ... instead I went in once, found the styles that fit best, and went a second time to try them on in the colors I chose from the stock in the store. Two dressing room trips - that's it! Can you believe it? It almost makes up for the fact that the cheapest bra I bought was $42.50 ... actually, it more than makes up for it. The drawer o' bras turned what was going to be a horrendous pain in the butt into something that was almost - but not quite - fun. And I've got a bunch of new undergarments that sag not, bag not, and will return my girls to a shape that is reminiscent of their pre-Liza level of perk. If that's not worth $170, what is?

($10 says Jason just spit coffee all over the computer monitor when he read that last sentence)