Since I made a secret vow to myself to be more healthy and fit by my 35th-please-no-make-it-stop-already next 29Again birthday, I have made a number of lifestyle changes.
First, I’ve changed my eating habits dramatically. This has led to my discovery that there are certain foods that I actually do love basically-almost-totally just as much as cupcakes. Fat free vanilla yogurt topped with the-granola-from-the-tubes-at-the-grocery-store is literally the happiest thing I regularly put in my mouth these days. And, Thin Mints are Satan’s cookies banned from my home.
Second, I’ve come to realize that water is probably the most important thing on the planet. Consuming it keeps your skin clear, your waistline slim, and your body alive. It’s pretty much magic.
Third, I have finally begun to appreciate the beauty of physical fitness. I attempt to engage in it a few times each week and, when I can not, I am cranky and ew.
Finally, on a note related to the bit on working out, I’ve come to realize, through trial and tons of error, that all sports bras are not created equal. And some of them downright suck.
When I first ventured anxiously into the gym, I did so clad in a pair of bleach stained yoga pants, a free double XL t-shirt I got at a blogging conference, and the sports bra I purchased during my first week of college.
Sure, sure, I’m larger now, but certain parts of my anatomy have always been, um, expansive, and the sports bra, thanks to more than 15 years of being stretched to within an inch of its existence, still fit around my rib cage and over the girls without an ounce of discomfort.
Or support, apparently.
My first couple of excursions into the gym involved me attempting to find the most remote elliptical machine to hide out on for 30 or so minutes while I worked myself into a smelly sweat (nerves make you stink, they just do) and tried not to hyperventilate, barf, cry, or pass out from exhaustion.
When I finally got up the nerve to try something on the group fitness calendar, I sneaked into the back of a Zumba class, stumbled awkwardly over my feet and slipped in my own sweat for an hour, before retiring to my house to ponder my inability to follow a series of 8 counts without losing my crap.
But, I went back, because, duh, Zumba is the shiznitz.
Sadly, while I was greatly improved in the speed and footwork departments upon my second visit, I was also shocked to discover that, when fast movement enters the equation, the girls gained a mind of their own.
And not in a good way. In a check-yo-self-before-you-wreck-yourself sorta way.
Flippity, flopping all over the place. Jabbing me (and possibly the girl in front of and behind me) in the face. Boxing my ears. Obstructing my view of the instructor. Drawing the wrong kind of attention from numerous classmates.
Google to the rescue, as per usual.
After a quick search for sports bras for tiggo bitties sports bras for well endowed women, I stumbled across Enell.
Best. Find. Ever.
They are supportive. They come in a whole mess of sizes. They don’t make a boob sack outta your girls (you know what I’m talking about, when the bra makes your junk all smooshed together). They’re breathable. And, not that anyone is ever going to catch me at the gym without a shirt covering it (my stretch marks veto any midriff bearing tops I think about wearing), they look alright too.
No, not showing you a photo of me in a sports bra.
But, you can look at photos of this expertly airbrushed fancy lady rocking them instead…
Covered, supported, ready to Zumba! Or run, or squat, or whatever it is you do when you get your work out on.
They come in two styles: the Enell Sport (top two photos), created to provide comfort and support for all athletic endeavors (I’m sure they mean like racing or curling or something, but I wear it to Zumba and treadmill and that is all), and the Enell Lite (bottom two photos) designed for everyday fitness (which I’m guessing is like, um, walking? Beats me, we both know I don’t even think about working out everyday).
They retail for $64-66 and $77-79 (depending on color), respectively.
The girls are worth it. And so, quite honestly, is my social status (I refuse to be known as floppy booby lady at the gym).
How about you?
Want to win yourself a sports bra?
I’m giving one away to a reader who cares about her girls…
*pBd Official Sounding Disclaimer & Junk: I received two of these sports bras, free of charge, to test out on my girls. I received no additional compensation and they didn’t make me like them. Not having my face battered by my own breasts did that.