It starts gradually.
A toothbrush. A contact lens case.
A compact hairbrush. A tiny container of moisturizer.
Then, so slowly it’s almost unnoticeable, it begins to expand.
A month ago I decided that I was tired of all of my old, ill-fitting bras. They didn’t feel good, and they didn’t look good, and there was just nothing about them that was working for me and my body and my clothes anymore. All of them had been purchased from Victoria’s Secret years ago. Since then, I’d learned just how terrible Victoria’s Secret bra sizing and fittings are. Like, “I’d never recommend Victoria’s Secret in a million years” bad, and I wish someone had told me that when I thought it was my only option for bras.
We all know that most women are wearing the wrong bra size. That’s a fact that’s so often thrown around, and yet. And yet. I knew that, but I don’t know why I thought for so long that I was the exception and not the rule.
In related news, I’m an idiot.
I can’t remember when I let nearly a month go by unnoticed on my blog.
More importantly, I can’t remember when I was content letting nearly a month go by unnoticed on my blog because I was actually comfortable with the fact that I had nothing to say.
I’m very rarely comfortable with having nothing to say. Or silence in general, really.
But when I sat down to write a blog post about a month ago, I had the hardest time stringing something together. I couldn’t think of anything in particular I wanted to share with the world, and when I finally settled on an idea, nothing sounded right.
So I took a step back, and decided to just let things be.