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"As I type this, I am wearing my Elmo &amp;quot;Think Green&amp;quot; shirt. It&amp;#039;s granola enough to send out an encouraging little vibes to fellow food court patrons, glitzy enough with its faux diamond globe to help me blend into the L.A. shopping scene, and tight enough to get quite a few second looks from wandering male customers. The tight factor was originally unintentional. I wanted an XL for a green minded convention I attended a few months back, but Large was all they had. Small on time but big in the chest department, I did the best I could by stretching it out the day of my conference. It didn&amp;#039;t look half bad, and I actually passed as fairly professional. (As professional as a red monster emblazoned across ones breasts can be.) Still, one wash and it was again form fitting. I could have stopped wearing it altogether, but my wardrobe isn&amp;#039;t that large. And, being the lazy cow that I am in the mornings, who has the time? If I&amp;#039;m going to stretch and pull something, it&amp;#039;s going to be to my expanding backside in a foo-foo pilates class, not some cheap butt tee shirt. I can&amp;#039;t say I don&amp;#039;t enjoy a little extra attention here and there. &amp;quot;Your soda is leaking,&amp;quot; one customer warned me as he slid smiling into the booth next to me. A few years ago, nine months into my second pregnancy, my amniotic fluid could have been leaking. No dude would have paid attention. Guys can be hypocrites that way. And I&amp;#039;m no exception. For as quickly as I wrote my column on my thrift store passion, I turned around today and spent $310.00 at Target. To add insult to injury, it&amp;#039;s not just any Target. It&amp;#039;s a double-decker monolith of chrome and steel. From the extra wide aisles to escalators with grooves designed specifically for your overloaded cart (because those engineers were so smart \u2013 I really couldn&amp;#039;t live without the camp themed linens, circular rag rug and $29.00 bed tents), everything is designed to make your shopping experience as pleasant as possible. You arrive home and are seized with remorse? No problem \u2013 just return it. Those smarty pants marketers are quite certain you will find something else to fill the unending pit of need known as American want. It&amp;#039;s no wonder that relationships are so much harder than they need to be. It would seem so much easier when, like the quilt I just purchased, to return a mate for something different at the first sign of trouble. Perhaps something softer, something more colorful, and never to be underestimated in our consumer culture, bigger. Much, much bigger. Thank God with my marriage to Rex I signed a &amp;quot;no return policy&amp;quot; agreement. Disposable produts, and mates, are something we both aim to avoid. What do you think? Am I way off base with my comparisons between buying our &amp;quot;happiness&amp;quot; at stores to wanting the quick fix for our sex life and marriages? "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2686/we-have-a-sale-on-breasts-aisl/>