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So, my mother finally coerced me into being "properly" fitted for bras. By which I mean she got a Nordstrom pre-sale appointment for me, bought me a lot of things I can later decide whether to keep (and pay her back for) or return, and then launched into a tirade about how my bras are all horribly ugly and ta-da! here is the bra-fitting woman and when she gets back I'd best have picked out some pretty bras.
It was an ... odd ... experience.
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traguna macoities tracorum satis de
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