I’m getting on the bandwagon with Oprah and pretty much everyone else to tell you that you’re probably wearing the wrong bra size.

Even if you’re a man. Especially if you’re a man.

I don’t know why, but bra sizing makes no sense whatsoever, and for years the bras I’ve worn have always felt just a little bit off. The band would ride up in back, little bumps of flesh would stick up over the tops of the cups. Just little annoyances that were pretty easy to ignore. But since I’m visiting my parents and had nothing better to do today, I went and got fitted.

And lo! I discovered I am not a 36D, nor a 38C, but a 36DD or DDD! Insanity! My rack is humongous!

Except it’s not, it looks pretty average. But whatevs.

It was kind of awkward being naked from the waist up with the nice fitting lady (which is kind of silly, given my work history) in a little room that looked for all the world like my mother decorated it, but I totally got over it and got measured and tried on hella bras, and I even bought one. Then I went to Title 9 and bought a sports bra. Hooray for commerce!

I’m a little annoyed that I don’t wear a standard size, which will make bra shopping more difficult and expensive. But at least now I feel slightly vindicated in wanting to chop them off altogether.

So if you’re a lady, go get your rack measured. If you’re a gentleman, stop wearing bras. Pervert.