Point blank: I have always hated bra shopping. Okay, not always. I distinctly remember how pumped I was to buy my first real bra—a satin baby pink underwire number from Target—when I was twelve. And man, did I feel like hot stuff! How little did my pre-teen self realize that bra shopping was about to be up there with going to the dentist—it’s something I’d dread each and every time.

It all began back in high school, while bra shopping with my BFF. The sales woman told me that my 34B breasts were “lemon boobs.” She said this after I’d gone through about fifteen bras, having the inevitable small boob issues—a gaping cup, slipping straps, and bulging under the arm due to a super tight band. In the end, she told me that I just had to deal because my lemon shape would always be difficult to accommodate. As a result, I stocked my drawers with super comfortable bralettes and embraced my relatively boob-less reality.

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