My husband might be in the back alley

Tracing my maternal line, my mother, my aunts, and my grandmother were all without exception members of the big-busted clan, and as I and my younger sister inherited that blood, we too are descendants of the big-busted, and as a consequence of that karma, Uniqlo does not sell bras in my size.
I have no choice but to go to a specialty lingerie store to buy them, but even then, if it's not a brand I've decided on as "the one," there are all sorts of restrictions that make it a hassle, like them saying they don't make that color in that size, or that this style only goes up to a certain size. I don't have the energy or the physical strength to explore new brands, so for nearly ten years, I've stuck to just "the one" brand, even though it's expensive.
Because it's expensive, I don't want to make a mistake, so I always try them on when I buy them, and although the manufacturer recommends "getting a fitting once every three months," I'm not in puberty anymore, so my size doesn't change that often.
In fact, I've been the same size for over five years, so I think this is a clever trap to sell one garment per season, and I manage my relationship with the lingerie shop by replacing them when they get worn out.

Bras have sizes that vary slightly depending on the shape, so I think it's best to try them on every time you buy one. There are a surprising number of varieties, such as those with high sides, those with strong power to gather everything in the middle, or those that keep your cleavage in place.
Now that I'm pushing forty, I no longer care about cleavage or pushing things up; the only thing I want from a bra is to gather every last bit of flesh into the cups. That's because at this age, my thoughts, memories, and flesh are all starting to loosen up, so if I'm not careful, my memories and thoughts will slip away and I'll miss out on essay material, and my flesh will escape from the bra cups.
Even if I can't do anything about my memories and thoughts, I can do something about my flesh with external force.

It was then that my sister, who is even more big-busted than I am, told me, "A bra that holds in your back fat is easy and comfortable," so I went to buy one right away.
After trying on several sizes, I decided to follow the fitter's advice that "it's better to go down one size than usual," but somehow there's a feeling that it's "not quite fitting in." My breasts are being crushed, and flesh is bulging out over the top of the cups.
But it was what a professional said, so I forced myself to accept it, and together with two pairs of panties, I sent two Yukichis (at the time) and one Ichiyo (at the time) off to a distant world. I feel like I even sent a few Hideyos (at the time) along with them. It can't be helped; it's the fate of the big-busted. I have no choice but to accept it. Goodbye.

The bra my sister recommended is pure comfort. The back belt is wide and stable, and it's not uncomfortable even when worn for long periods.
But that "not quite fitting in" feeling still bothers me. I think it's strange that my breasts are crushed and flesh is bulging out over the top of the cups, but once I started worrying about that, I couldn't stop thinking about it.
When I went to a different store and consulted a veteran fitter, a madam, it turned out that my usual size was the perfect fit, and once again I had to send a Yukichi and an Ichiyo on their way. Goodbye.

Because of that, I have a light purple bra that doesn't fit and two matching pairs of panties left in my possession.
When I told my husband that story over drinks,

"Why don't you make it a reader gift for your note?"

What are you talking about?

My husband, if by any chance someone appeared who wanted it, would you really be okay with that?
Even if there existed some pervert who would happily receive a used bra from his wife (pushing forty), could you forgive that?
To you, am I that kind of existence?
I lost my cool for a moment, and I feel like I scolded him with words like that.

"Because, you know, it's funny. Don't you think someone would want it? Don't you have any enthusiastic fans?"

Are you judging everything by whether it's funny or not?
Whether it's funny or not, does that transcend even ethics, or the fact that as a husband, you shouldn't want your wife's bra to end up in the hands of a third party?
Did you have such values where funny is everything?

Funny or not funny.
I myself have been placing myself in a place with values like "me, or anyone but me" for several months now. I feel that way.
……That's it.
The back alley of the note town. The values there are exactly that.

My husband might be a "Rojiura-er" (back-alley dweller) without me knowing it.
As a result of getting hooked on the swamp of the back alley, he must have come up with the crazy idea of making his wife's (pushing forty) used bra a reader gift because it would be funny.
People are still flowing into the back alley one after another.
Although I launched the "Department of What Are You Talking About," honestly, I don't know all the members.
The Rojiura-ers I know are only a small fraction.
Even if my husband were lurking among the unknown Rojiura-ers, I wouldn't know.
Moreover, if one of the readers, who are few but definitely exist, happens to be my husband, it would be impossible for me to intervene.
Judging from his mention of "enthusiastic fans," could one of the "Tiko tribe" members who have recently started to be discovered actually be my husband? Or perhaps he is using multiple personalities by himself, playing several Tiko tribe members of different ages and genders, and if that's the case, I'm completely wrestling with myself, exposing my shame in multiple layers.

My husband might be a Rojiura-er and a Tiko tribe member.
While harboring such suspicions within my big-busted self, I am writing useless sentences in the back alley of the note town again today.

I received the Back Alley Award at the Creative Awards.
Since I received review articles from both the managers of the "What Are You Talking About Department" and the "Who Cares Department," this is a proud Back Alley Award. It is an achievement to be proud of.
I have to hold an awards ceremony... Konishi-san, Minomushi-san, I'll be waiting for you in Ezo.

Looking at it, my impression was that essays that punch head-on are not sought after on the main stage.
I don't think "Watashikyu" is qualitatively inferior to the essays that passed the preliminary round, so it's just that the content didn't match the Creative Awards (this is why I'm disliked for writing things like this).
If that one is no good, there are no essays I can submit to the main award races.
So, I will continue to wander around the back alley and stab the hearts of those I accidentally pass by.
I wish the best of luck to those who passed the preliminary round and those who will challenge from next year onwards.

There are many things I didn't write in order to keep it within the 10,000-character limit, so I want to make a private edition and go to the Literary Flea Market.
If I make a private edition, is there anyone... who wants it?
Even if Konishi-san and Minomushi-san say "I don't need it," I will force it on them.

Or maybe I'll rewrite it as a private novel and submit it to the Bungei Prize.
If I'm going to make a private edition, it wouldn't be too late to do it after that.
I have time, so I'll think about it slowly.

I'm more excited than when I was writing for the Creative Awards.
I won't be bound by results, and it's free, after all.

Tiko's literature does not die.

#Essay

#What are you talking about
#It's just crazy
#Whatever

#Overflowing with excitement
#Bring it on Autumn 2024