um....I mean bigger than my eleven-year olds.
But obviously not by much. You see, Tori just recently joined the world of bras. She needs a little fabric to cover her budding breasts.
I on the other hand, rarely wear bras. Honestly, there's not many days I need one unless I'm wearing a white tissue t-shirt. Even then, it's fairly questionable whether I need coverage or not.
I have never been blessed in the cleavage arena, and frankly, most days I don't mind looking like Olive Oil. Other days, I need some curves so I wear my Wonder Bra. Truly, these are a wonder because I can go from looking concave to a 32 C in a matter of seconds. I have even had people ask me if I've had a boob job, so clearly the Wonder Bra is doing its job quite nicely thank you very much.
Now that Tori and I both have similar undergarments, you would think that Mema or Bubby could figure out which pile the bras go in when folding the laundry. Ummm...no.
For some reason, and help me out here people, other members of my family think that Tori's bra is mine. Are they trying to torture me?
So you judge my fellow bloggers. Can you guess which bra is mine? And if you can't, well than you can all just die a slow, painful death.