La Dulce Vida - Da Soul Hip Blog Queen - That Thong, Th-, Thong, Thong, Thong

What I don't break I usually lose. The good thing is - I don't over-react.

I went to the Bull Hellring - which some people refer to as a shopping paradise - today to get some bits and pieces.

What was I thinking?!

Saturday is the busiest day in Babylon! The point of the Paradise was that there were only two people in there. That's why God is making sure that the Heaven won't be overcrowded.

I wanted to get a photo album for those 50 plus pictures I took yesterday at the hospital, and give it to Dani in her baby shower next week. I also got some little stickers and things I can decorate it with, but it seems that in England people are not as creative as in the Peripheria (I haven't found a Finnish blog that didn't have something to do with knitting. Trust me.); it took me forever to finally find some lame stuff at Selfridges.

As I passed the Bullring market place, I saw a little lingerie shop I didn't know existed. In the past five years I've been squeezing myself into too small underwear, which makes me part of the 90% of women who don't wear the right bra size. Well, never mind my brassieres - that guy from How to Look Good Naked would mutilate most of my knickers!

Student loan - here we go!


Well, at £1 each didn't exactly break the bank.

Can someone tell me why it is so difficult to find a bra that has no 'air' 'gel' or any other filling / padding / topping / cushions / whatever? I don't think these extras are absolutely necessary when the cup size is DD+. These ones were okay, though:



I can't really wear these with any of my tops, because with all that pattern they would shine through any fabric. So, they can only be worn when no other clothing is being worn. I.e. about five minutes at a time. And the point was...




And the point was...


(£5!)

At home I realised I had lost everything I had bought for the baby! Left it on the bus with a rude Polish driver who gave me the wrong ticket and just shrugged arrogantly when I complained! An hour later, after I stopped crying, cursing my existence, cursing the Bullring, cursing the Polish bus driver, banging my head on the wall, missing my mum, texting my friends, and crying on the floor, I blew my nose in some lace and wondered whether Malaika would appreciate some French underwear? DD+?