Women’s sizes, like women themselves, are far more complex. Bust, waist, and hip measurements are somehow combined and condensed into a single cryptic number, such as 7 or 9. I’ve talked with people who work in women’s apparel departments of top retail stores, and no one has yet been able to explain the mysterious code to any degree of satisfaction.

When a woman is slightly on the heavy side—in other words, plump—the equation becomes even more convoluted. In the old days, there were half sizes, such as 14 and 16. Everyone understood that a size in even numbers meant that the clothing was designed for someone carrying a few pounds too many.

But, half sizes are no longer politically correct. So, now, clothes designed for fat ladies are called “Women’s Sizes,” as if skinny females aren’t really women. Oops, I did it again. Instead of the word fat I should have written Rubenesque.

I spoke at some length with a representative of Neiman Marcus, who informed me that their 1X women’s size is the equivalent of the old 14-16; 2X, the equal of 18-20. And, 3X, the same as 22-24. I asked what the sizes 14-16, 18-20, and 22-24 represented, and was told, without hesitation, “Big, Bigger, and Biggest.”

It also matters in which country the women are measured. An American size 10 equals a British 12—which is called a 38 in Germany and the Netherlands, a C38 in Finland, Sweden, and Norway, a 40 in Belgium, a 44 in Italy, and a 44/46 in Portugal and Spain. Go figger!

There’s an added complication when it comes to brassieres. A number of sources state with presumed authority that the bra was invented by a man named Otto Titzling, with the help of his assistant Hans Delving. That is pure fiction, or perhaps just a corny joke. Fuhgeddaboudit.

In truth, the first modern bra was created by New York socialite Mary Phelps Jacob in 1913. She’d just bought an evening gown to wear to a fancy dress ball. To Mary’s dismay, the whalebones and steel rods of her cumbersome corset poked out visibly around the neckline and under the sheer fabric of her lovely gown. So, with the help of her French maid, Mary stripped off the unwieldy corset and, in its place, jury-rigged a device from two silk handkerchiefs and some pink ribbon. Voilà, the bra was born!

It isn’t recorded whether the ball was a success, but Mary’s creation was the rage of the affair, prompting her to pursue the matter further. In November, 1914, she was awarded a United States patent for the “Backless Brassiere.” Jacob produced the brassieres herself for a while, but she was apparently more of a gallivant than a businessperson, and before long she sold her patent rights to Warner Brothers Corset Company—no connection to the movie studio—for a paltry $1,500.

As with men’s dress shirts, bra sizes consist of two dissimilar segments. There’s the band, and then there’s the cup. Examples are 34B, 36C, and 38D. The number is the band size, the letter the cup size.

To determine the proper band size, measure under the bust, round up to the next even inch, and add 4. Why add 4? I don’t have the foggiest idea. But, I assure you, that’s the correct way to measure someone for a bra, if that particular avocation happens to interest you.

Ida Kaganovich Rosenthal, co-founder of Maidenform, was responsible for grouping women into cup sizes back in the 1920s. I don’t know whether Rosenthal just wasn’t up to the job or she got confused by the magnitude of the project. There’s absolutely no rhyme or reason to cup sizes, which, logically, should indicate a precisely measurable capacity.

The only fact for certain is that the lower letters of the alphabet represent smaller sizes. A, B, C, and D cups are concepts that are simple enough for anyone to grasp (please forgive the allusion). But, after that, cup sizes are discombobulating. Size DD is the same as size E. Size DDD is the same as size F. Then, there’s G and H.

Apparently, sizes I and J are skipped over entirely, and the cup sizes pick up again and continue with KK, LL, O (pronounced “Oh”), and OO (“Ooooh!”).

Perhaps Rosenthal should have left the task of sizing breasts to a man. Howard Hughes, for example. Hughes, a man who always kept abreast of technological innovations, utilized his aeronautical engineering knowledge and skills to design a cantilevered push-up bra that revealed Jane Russell’s already abundant cleavage to best advantage in his film, The Outlaw. Because of Russell’s enhanced attributes, the movie was considered so risqué that it was shelved for three years after it was filmed. The Outlaw was finally released in 1943, and the world did not come to an abrupt end.

I’d originally thought that instead of using single or double letters for cup sizes, it might be possible to recycle the names of egg sizes. Everyone can relate to those. Eggs are graded peewee, small, medium, large, extra large, and jumbo. However, after learning the wide range of cup sizes needed to accommodate all women, I discarded that simplistic concept. In many instances, the cup would have runneth over.

I do believe that now I have the right answer. Instead of eggs, bra manufacturers should use descriptive nomenclature borrowed from the olive industry. Olives are rated by the quantity per kilogram. For instance, large olives measure 231–260 per kilo, whereas jumbo olives measure 181–200 per kilo.

So, using olive sizes, in my postulated program bras would be manufactured in the following cups: Bullets, Fine, Brilliant, Superior, Large, Extra Large, Jumbo, Extra Jumbo, Giant, Colossal, Super Colossal, Mammoth, and Super Mammoth. To which I would add, Humungous, Gargantuan, and Ohmygod.