Girl on the Brink: Surviving Desperate Times with Desperate Measures

Along with a shrinking wallet comes a shrinking bra size. A smaller cup size is an issue of concern to both sexes when it comes to second base. I should know. I’ve shrunk.

I used to be a 32D, a reality I learned when my girlfriend had me professionally fitted for a bra. Stores in Santa Monica, California, know how to fit a woman correctly. I tossed out all my 36As in trade for the experience of smooshing my two friends together so they’d pop out. That was my instruction to the bra fitter: I wanted cleavage.

Trouble is, when you lose your job everything shrinks on account of the fact that you don’t eat as much.

I can still somewhat afford to eat and never go out to lunch or dinner anymore unless someone else is buying. If I treat myself, it’s a quick bite at Cosi or some sandwich-like place, and then I feel guilty that I spent almost $10. I also don’t do coffee stops at Caribou Coffee, but if I wander past the downtown store for some reason I might stop in to feel normal again.

The sour economy also makes me more likely to take back clothes that either don’t fit or my kids don’t like. Before, I’d say, “It only costs $15″ and then forget about taking it back. But I haven’t sent back this $30+ bra I bought online last December, which was a stupid thing to do because I was unfamiliar with the brand and, sure enough, it didn’t fit.

I don’t see me filling it out anytime in the near future, and now it’s been so long since I’ve bought it that I don’t want to send it back because of the fear of rejection, which permeates my existence at all sorts of levels when I’ve been unemployed for this long. If I fear the bra place rejecting me because I’ve waited too long to return it, imagine how I feel when I follow up on a job lead.

The majority of rejection emails I get use gentle language to tell me that I’m not right for the job, which doesn’t make me feel any better, though it probably eases the guilt of the hiring company. These formulaic letters always begin with a line about how we had a lot of “qualified” applicants and continue with the news that they reviewed my resume and decided it wasn’t a good match.

They then string me along by saying they’ll keep my resume on file for six months. That’s such a throwaway line, like that’s supposed to inspire hope that someday they’ll hire me? Then the letters end with a thank you for applying and a wish for good luck with my job search. In this economy, maybe luck, not talent, is what I need.