36, 24, 36

I have a confession to make. I, the bringer of the cool, seductress extraodinaire, wear a padded bra.

Pause for shocked silence.

But I don't wear it for what might be considered the usual reasons. Such as my floor board cousin's reasons. Despite what my voluptuous, bountiful, able-to-feed-a-small-country sister might have said ever since her chest exploded, I am not lacking in that area of my physique. I have a respectable handful. So instead of attempting to add volume, I wear a padded bra for another reason. That reason being my traitorous nipples.

These little nodules of flesh don't really need so much as a stiff wind to be set off. They've been likened (by me) to turkey testers. You know. Those little red button's that pop up when the turkey is fully cooked. Yeah. Kinda like that.

I wasn't always fully aware of my ability to etch glass immediately following an awkward brush of fabric or a whisper of wind or no real reason at all. I mean, it might have been pointed out here or there but never to the point to discourage me from wearing a tank top, sans bra, come midsummer. That was until THIS summer and until this particular tank top. This was early in Man Friend and my relationship. He took me to a nice restaurant. It was late summer, still warm. I was wearing my favorite green tank top because.. well.. I wanted to show off my boobs. There. I said it. Don't judge me. The restaurant was air conditioned. ON HIGH. And shockingly, I get cold easily, which, shockingly, sets them off. Man Friend said they weren't that bad. He's a bloody, effing liar. I went to the bathroom and it was like I wasn't even wearing a shirt. You could make out EVERY detail, and I do mean every. I spent the rest of the meal with my arms crossed.

So now, now I wear a padded bra. My horrible secret is out. But I'll tell you what. Despite the padding, you can still tell when I get a chill. I'm like the princess and the pea. Four inches of fabric and you can still see it. But I have to say, I don't hear the gentlemen complaining.