A couple of years ago, for no reason that I can recall now other than perhaps boredom, I measured myself for a bra. I discovered that, lo and behold, the bras I owned were four inches too large. Since I had always just bought the smallest size I could find, which was the smallest size most manufacturers make, this posed a bit of a problem. After a bit of googling I stumbled on a company, with very positive reviews from bra-uthorities like Good Housekeeping, that specialized in bras for petite people, like myself. Delighted at the prospect of having clothing that actually FIT, I placed an order, slightly less delighted with the cost. These you will not find in a two pack on clearance at Walmart...no, no my friend, these will cost you dearly.
The box came with an inconspicuous label and I was delighted to discover the enormous difference between a properly fitted bra and one that was two sizes too large. After counting my pennies for a few months to order another I finally picked one out to add to my meager collection of clothing that actually fits. I awaited the box anxiously.
In the meantime, my son started playing T-ball. He loved it and had a great time, he had a wonderful coach, who happened to be married to a friend of mine. He also happened to be our mail carrier.
So imagine my delight, and then inevitable dismay when my next package came NOT with the inconspicuous return label but a much larger label announcing to the world, and by default my mail carrier and son's T-ball coach, my recent purchase from "The Little Bra Company."
It's a damn good thing I like the bra.