It’s my last weekend in
(This blog post has a PG-13/possibly way-too-much-information rating. Read on at your own risk.)
We had little success at most of the clothing stores—that is, until we stumbled into a Chinese lingerie shop.
For those of you who don’t know, I am not a particularly busty chica. You might compare my chest to, say, a tabletop. My bra-shopping history goes something like this:
(I walk into
Saleswoman: “Hi, can I help you?”
Me: “Yes, do you have any bras in (my bra size)?”
Saleswoman: “Hmm, let’s see…” (She pulls out a plain, white, akin-to-training bra.) “We do have this one.”
Me: “Anything else?”
Saleswoman: “I’m sorry, they just don’t come that small.”
Anyway, I was expecting the same experience here in
“See?” she said in Chinese. “This bra will make you look much sexier.” And sure enough: the bra fit, was comfortable, was nicely designed and—shockingly!—made me look like I have cleavage. My friend, whose build is a lot like mine, was having a similar experience in the next dressing room over: “Ah!” she squealed in English, “These Chinese bras are amazing!”
I’d have to agree. So when I get back to the states, if you notice an extra spring in my step, you'll know: I'm wearing really fantastic underwear.
1 comment:
Hahaha, AMAZING!! I love you too much Justinie. You really are getting the full, unabridged version of Chinese culture, hahaha.
Love Xu
(Maybe I should look into those also!)
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