I'll never forget my unbridled joy when I discovered the existence of underwire bras. I had always just skipped right by them in the lingerie department because I was unaware of their super-amazing-unlike-any-bra-I've-ever-worn properties. But then one day as I was perusing the selection in the JC Penney, I got a wild hair and boldly decided to try something new. What a find! A bra that offers real assistance to my... as there is just no nice way to say this I'll attempt a modest and innocuous wording that will hopefully not bring any particular image to one's mind especially not one close to my reality unless you have a pair of your own and can honestly commiserate... my no-longer-twenty-one-year-old breasts in regaining their lost perkiness! Well not actually regaining, but at least giving the illusion (albeit temporary as is the nature of most illusions) of lift and shape. I enthusiastically embraced this newfound wonder and replaced every brassiere in my drawer with those of the underwire variety.
But now I can't decide if these things are a blessing or a curse.
You see, as the brassieres near the end of their useful life those helpful wondiferous wires begin to work their way free of the cloth in which they are encased. It begins innocently enough, just a loose string or a bit of worn fabric. Insidiously the wires begin to squirm and move until they have created a true hole out of which to poke their sharp pointy little ends. And that's where the fun really begins.
So I am reminded yet again there is a price for everything. Yet some prices are worth paying. Double even.