Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Strap Perfect is a two-man job.

The strap perfect is a genius invention. Especially considering racerback tanks are in this summer. But the adherence of the SP isn't a solo mission, unless you want to end up ass over elbows on your closet floor.

I tried unsuccessfully to put the strap perfect on by myself several times before I gave in, unpretzled my arms and humbly requested assistance. The problem is: I'm not double-jointed. Or a contortionist.

And let's face it: you don't want to walk around looking like white trash with your straps all hangin' out. And if you're an ample-busomed lady such as myself, you can't go commando. Maybe back in my skinny days, but certainly not now.

Thankfully, K is very helpful when it comes to the SP. He's also good at tucking the boob pads back into my bathing suits when they come out in the wash. Coincidence? I think not.

So we've negotiated a Strap Perfect Assistance contract through racerback season, and hopefully I won't need to pop and lock my way through dressing myself each morning.


  1. I've broken so many strap perfects by trying to hook them on and then putting the bra on over my head. Big mess. It's really hard to do by yourself, and that's silly, because that should be one of the requirements...DIY!

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