3:52 p.m. - 2004-07-05
Reminiscent of “Interaction in a Mall” (March 23, 2004) I found myself back at Sears on Friday night. I had needed to, for some time, return an item. Thankfully, Sears was gracious and even though the original purchase predated 30 days – they allowed my return.
Whilst I was there I once again felt it prudent to peruse other areas of the store. I had just made a major kudos by my return – which they credited me in cold hard cash! A rarity for my wallet in this age of credit and debit cards. I was giddy with the thought of possibilities . . .
However, common sense prevailed, and here is where the men may not wish to read further . . . .
As I meandered through the racks of endless, needless, unnecessary clothes I made the realization that a new “over the shoulder boulder holder” was in order. That is to say – I needed a new bra. I find this particular task to be totally, absolutely demoralizing, right up there with purchasing that new bathing suit.
There are simply too many styles to choose from. Too many sizes to sort out, too many colours, pairs, shapes, dimensions, straps, configurations to get your head around. I plainly find this daunting task overwhelming. It does not help the process when one is not totally comfortable with ones size or shape. When one does not like the look of the person staring back at them in the mirror when trying on anything so revealing as a bra - one finds themselves in a dilemma.
And at this point in my life I like to think I am gaining wisdom and insight into small parts of my life and apparel. It occurred to me that along with a new bra, a new sense of maturity should accompany it. What I mean by this is that possibly I am not as “perky” as I once was and should consider moving away from a wired cup to less . . . encapsulated versions. The (rail thin) sales clerk was very helpful as I described the direction I wanted to go. She understood my desire to stay feminine yet venture outwards from the wires and stays that have befriended me since my youth. The most obvious problem came when the majority of breast contraptions have wires, with the exception of the skimpiest, tiniest, pettiest of bra’s – which have nothing but lace and two strings. The second most obvious problem came when as we looked over the masses and the flip side seemed prevalent – bras the could hold weapons of mass destruction and no one would get hurt. Otherwise known as a bosom blockade of tight fabric covering a majority of the upper torso area. Not a pleasant, delicate, ladylike sight.
From out of seemingly nowhere the sales clerk found two for me to try. Neither of which fell within the above-mentioned categories. They should have worked. They should have given me the support and comfort I desired without the aid of a wire.
Within seconds of trying one of them on I was immediately made aware of why I wear bras with a wire. In biblical proportions my sins where sent as far as the east is from the west. In fact I would almost count it safe to say – my arms were lifted to a horizontal position from the push out from wayward mammilla. There was no lift, only separate – sorry “Cross Your Heart”.
I quickly realigned my clothing, sought out the old and the comfortable, and will not seek to change my style again for sometime.
Let my story today be a lesson to you youngling’s. We all age, but do everything in your power to stay true to yourself. Let no bra come between you and your lift and succour.
Cheers - LJ