It's that Time of Year Again.

Oh joy, oh joy. It is that time of year again - time for the dreaded bra shopping trip. Why is it that all of my bras seem to fall apart around the same time every year? I stick my finger through the lace of one, rip the lining of another, the wire pokes out of a third, the hook and eye detach on the fourth, and so on and so on. The lingerie ladies tell me this is just normal wear and tear, and I suppose I believe them. I suppose any garment made of fairly thin material and lace, which contains wires and metal hooks and eyes, is going to wear out faster than, say, a T-shirt.

And I wouldn't complain (as much) if it weren't for three things:

First, bras are very expensive, even cheap ones go for $20 each, and the better quality ones are usually between $40 and $60 each. Anyone who has ever purchased a cheap bra knows that it is just a waste of money. The cheap ones fall apart faster than the expensive ones. And the cheap ones are usually less attractive than the expensive ones and made with courser material. There is nothing worse than an itchy bra.

Second, the physical act of bra shopping is about the only thing worse than shopping for swimsuits. When you enter the lingerie department, thousands of bras hang before you. They all look relatively the same. To the untrained eye (say, the male eye), it looks easy to buy a bra. Walk up to the rack, pick one out in your size (preferably the most revealing or "uplifting" as possible), pay for it, done. Works for boxers, right?

Wrong. Each one of those thousands of bras has a completely different fit. Each style (even within the same company) fits every woman differently. So, while I may be a certain size in one type of bra, I am a different size in another. So, on the advice of the lingerie lady, for every type of bra you are going to try on, you should take at least three different sizes into the dressing room. Which means, you are going to try on at least 40 bras to find two or three that actually work.

By the time you get to the dressing room, you are exhausted and the real work has not even begun. Now you starting trying them on. There are so many possible problems with any given bra. Straps - too far apart, they fall off the shoulders; too close, they show in certain shirts; too short, bad for the armpits; too long, the girls might fall out. Cups - too big causes too much movement; too small causes breathing difficulty; too high looks like an old lady bra; too low might be disasterous. Adjustments - do they slip? Do you have to take the bra off to adjust or can you do it while wearing the bra? Hooks - front or back? Padding - none, a little, or stand up on its own? Color - white, black, cream, taupe, or do you go with the crazy colors knowing you will probably not wear them that often? Decorations - will that little bow or lace or pearls show through shirts? Overall fit - too squishy, you get the dreaded unaboob; too pointy, you go Madonna in the Vogue video. I am tired just writing about it.

Finally, third - the matching underwear problem. To match or not to match? Do you buy the matching underwear knowing that, in reality, the two pieces will probably never be clean at the same time? Also, the likelihood that both the bra and the matching underwear fit well is nill. But, if you don't match, then you have that knowledge all day that your underwear doesn't match your bra. What if you are in a car accident and have to go to the hospital? Of course, then they are only going to cut that $40 bra off of you, so it probably doesn't matter.

Thankfully, the stores have mostly solved this problem by not offering matching underwear for most bras (except for Victoria's Secret, but that stuff is not really for the women, is it?) But what about those people who suffer from OCD (or are just a little pointlessly hypertechnical)? What are we to do? Just suffer in silence, I guess. Except for me, of course!