If at Fifth You Don't Succeed . . .

On Saturday, Zach and I are going to drive thirty-some-odd miles (up to an hour and a half in traffic, according to Google) so that I can try once again to find a bra that actually fits. (I have already stumped at least three professional fitters in New York and two in LA.)

My mom did a little poking around (thanks, Mom!) and found this fitter, who is actually based in the Bay Area but travels to Southern California one weekend a month. Hence our upcoming road trip.

In one of our e-mail exchanges, the fitter asked me, "What are you biggest problems/complaints with bras?"

Where to start???

I ended up sending her a long message that outlined (in seven bullet points) the various issues I've been dealing with for the past nine years. Apparently, it was detailed enough to obviate the need for me to fill out her standard form.

Here's what she said in response:

"[Y]ou've done an admirable job of providing all the information I need. I won't promise that I'm going to be your solution either, but I'm certainly willing to try."

I'm willing to try, too.

And I can only hope that the sixth time will be the charm. . . .