Flopper Stoppers--Not For the Weak of Heart

I was given permission a few days ago to blog about whatever I darn well pleased. Today I intend to get my money's worth--throw all caution to the wind. I am prompted by an unfortunate experience I had with my undergarments yesterday. This is not to be confused with the time that my Victoria Secret water bra sprung a gusher or the time I heard an audible POP in the temple and was completely left unsupported for more time than I would ever recommend and forced to dive into a small room I had never heretofor even seen to salvage myself. Yesterday's debacle included a bra recently purchased that surfaced in my underwear drawer. It was sleek, but as I was to discover, its merits ceased right there. I spent the entire morning reaching, tugging, adjusting myself--pulling, yanking and cursing. But for a chaw and a mitt I cculd have doubled as a Yankee! At one point I retreated to the powder room (actually our faculty restroom at school is one part toilet/sink and 8 parts broom/mop closet) for triage. I stripped down to my waist and started completely from scratch trying to remedy my problem. This included pulling some things up and others down in a firm no nonsense fashion only to have it all creep up and fall down ten steps out the door and on my way. That's why instead of lunch I got a quick trip home to dramatically fling that NASTY of NASTIES off and into a corner!! Be gone! I have pretty much been undergarment challenged for a lifetime. That's between Mother Nature and me, but I bring it up because I don't think I'm alone. The quest for the Golden Brassiere is a lament I hear frequently. A few Christmas vacations ago, I happened to serendipitously end up for a delightful day and night with my hysterical California divorce lawyer cousin in New York. I was in NJ on a mission of mercy, and she was in NY for the holiday--well, just because she could be. We met up and romped. Great fun. But I was most interested in her narrative of an appointment at a highly recommended Park Avenue bra boutique where she received a CONSULTAITON, FITTING, AND REFRESHMENTS AT A SMALL TABLE as well as took home a small gold mine in a fancy bag. I sooooooo want to do this. I'm completely assured that with the right expertise what I have could be molded, redirected, and pounded into some sort of adequate bra. Given the right encouragement I have faith that much of the skin on my back could be trained to shift over to duty in front! Actually there was an eligible single branch president in North Carolina on my mission who was a "bra consultant" (I'm not making this up), but I certainly didn't have near the hutzpah to visit him during business hours!! Such a shame too because I'll bet we could have gotten a missionary discount. So I found this smashing corset in Google images. It looks like it has potential--pushes up, squeezes in. The controls are in the front. Good. Good. I wonder if it has an engine...I need a little hydraulic help.