a true story...

I know that most of you have read the story already...but I wanted to have it on my blog anyway. For the MALE reader, beware - you can read it, I think you would find it amusing...I'm just saying...

This is a true story about a girl and her struggle to find a bra. Sorry, the facts are gruesome but the story must be told...

My son is graduating and can’t wear jeans to the ceremony. Not sure what the principal is thinking since that is all a 13 year old boy will be caught alive wearing. Any who, off to the mall we go (side note: I HATE the mall.) to find something appropriate and cool enough to be seen wearing in public. As we are taking a tour of the parking garage, trying to find that just right parking spot it happens, I feel a tugging sensation on my back and next thing I know the girls bust free from their prison. The hell that tortures them on a daily basis - the clasp on my bra has broken and is hanging loose under my shirt. The feeling of both embarrassment as well as a great deal of comfort washes over me. Not quite knowing what to do, I inform my children to cover their ears, I don’t want to have to pay for more counseling, and quietly inform my husband what has happened. Well, being the sensitive caring husband that he is, he says to me, "Just take it off." I gasp! Does he even know what he’s saying? Does he not care??? I haven’t been in public without a bra since I was 8 or 9 years old...and this, this is the MALL!!! Apparently I didn’t say it as discretely as I should have because my kids begin to snicker and my mother-in-law leans forward and encourages me to remove it as well "at least they aren’t all saggy," she says, "no one will even know!" HA!! Is she crazy? I’m 41 and I’ve had 4 kids, they are no longer breasts they are utters! The dilemma was before me and I pondered all the possibilities...Could I actually do this? It is for a good cause, hey it’s not like I planned it, my son needs me to be with him and (God PLEASE!) I won’t see anyone I know...I’ll do it! I took off the bra and get out of the car. WOW, this is going to be weird. I walk in the mall cringing as I waited to hear the shrieks of laughter and kids running away crying in horror but alas, no one even glanced their way...good girls, just lay low (never wanted them to do that before). Okay, this isn’t about me I tell myself, let’s go find some clothes for the boy...wandering through the maze of racks and racks of clothes finding the not the right style, not the right size, not the right color and definitely not the right price and so on...I see a sign from God, over in the lingerie department written especially to me "BRA FITTING & SALE EVENT" Could it be true? Could they actually have an affordable piece of underwear in the MALL? And could I possibly find out what the right size is for me??? It’s the last day of the BRA FITTING & SALE EVENT, so should I? I suddenly find myself in front of the counter asking "who does the bra fitting?" (in my head I say a little prayer "please let her be a large old woman, please let her be a large old woman, please let...") That’s me!...says the perky 5 foot tall 98 pound pretty 20 year old. Oh. Well. Okay. Um. I see. She takes her tape measure and comes at me like she’s about to climb Mount Everest.....I quickly inform her of the garage incident and she pauses...she re-evaluates her approach to the climb and walks towards me with a more determined look. I hold my breath, I pray, I close my eyes and think about my happy place. She steps away and smiles. That’s it? No laughing, no calculator or grid? So, tell me, what’s my size? "Well, they don’t make your size" I look around nervously..."He, he, I’m sorry?" "No ma’am, bras don’t come in your size." (Does she have to talk so loud?) "Well, what size is it?" I say softly hoping she will catch on to the idea..."eh hem." At this point I swear she raises her voice a few more notches and announces to the MALL "46 a." I freeze, the needle drags across the record, people stop and stare..."wha?" "Yes ma’am, you are a 46 a." (Is she smirking?) "You could try a 40 b and see, but I don’t think it would fit you" Lord, for years I’ve been living a 38 b lie, blind and in denial...but 46 a??? That’s like concave! No one has a ribcage that size! I know I am a large woman, but seriously?? So, task at hand I set out to find the closest match I could find. Poor girls...all these years...they seem to be just a little sadder now. I look out over the vast possibilities – so many pretty colors and lace and ooh, that’s sexy! Eh hem, says the smug little clerk and gives me one more bit of info. "You won’t find anything close there, you need to look on this rack here." (She is smirking!) My eyes follow her lead and fall on a rack of black and white hideous garments that can only be described by words like tents, and sails and and HUGE. Well, there were a ton (no pun) of sizes and none even close to, to, well you know, and ridiculous prices and all of them were UGLY I mean UUUGLLY! Is it too much to ask for them to be pretty and inexpensive and fit? and oh my! this is so embarrassing...large women want sexy bras too! So I settle for the closest thing I could find, 42 b. I dare not try it on there. (I can just see little miss 36c peeking in and asking me how’s it going!) I will take my ugly tent, er bra home and tend to my wounds there, thank you. My husband shows up in time to pay. He asks how’s it going and I swallow hard and manage a ‘fine, just pay please.’ We walk to the car and I ride home in silence with my purchase. And that’s the story of a girl and her attempt to find a bra. The girls and I have been humbled by the truth. The bra does kind of fit (the band fits great, but there’s a bit too much room for the girls to roam). I don’t know what the future holds as far as finding a better fit or a prettier bra...but this is an experience I will never forget.
Oh, and my son found something to wear.
The End.

it's been one week...

Looking over the first week of my blog I feel like I just ramble on and on and talkway too much...Yep, pretty much. I really don't have anything deep or important to write today. Not that I ever do. I like to look at all the different blogs that are out there in the blogosphere...and there are millions. That was one of the reasons I hesitated to join the crowd. It seemed rather arrogant of me to think what I had to say should be read by anyone. Several friends talked me into it and I am glad. But I've said that already, this is a new post after all. Ran across one blog that I love so much. He's just started blogging like me (so we would be neo-bloggers, bloggreens or wet behind the words???). I won't put his blog here, I am not sure how much traffic he wants. He tells the most wonderful stories and makes me want to meet the people he writes about. I feel like I'm experiencing the event with him. That's exactly what writing is about...taking your reader there. Wherever there is, there is what your reader feels, sees and knows. I so want to be able to write in a way that effects a person that way. Other blogs that I've come across are funny, some are rude, some are very impressive with way too much technology and time put into them. Mine is basic, just in case you've stumbled on mine - that is the way I want it to be. I have several friends who blog as well. I've put their links over on the left. Go ahead, look at them (yes, on the left, see them?). They are wonderful people that you should "meet". They are funny, smart and I love them so much. Well, except for Heather. Her's is the Fuel Friends blog. I don't know her - I feel like I do, but I don't. I just like her blog way too much not to put it on here. She is pretty funny and smart as well. The women I do know, I must tell you they have a faith that keeps me going. They inspire me to carry on and I love them so much! Oh, I said that already too. Well, I am going to go now. There is the most wonderful thunderstorm happening and I don't want to miss it! Will write soon...

Are we there yet?

Nope kids we are not.
I love to travel. When I was little and we went somewhere, I never asked my mom if we were there yet. Okay, at least thats how I remember it. I was always ready to go somewhere and while we were going my eyes were glued to the road waiting to see something new. We traveled as much as a single mom in the 70's could afford and for that I am grateful, thanks moms. I wouldn't wow you with the places we went if I told you about them, but I sure enjoyed the ride. I usually didn't care what our destination was, for me, getting there was most of the excitement. I haven't lost that excitement and I hope I never do. I love to get in the car and go for a ride. Preferably out of town, but even around town is great. When Jesse and I lived in Michigan we would load the kids up in the car (that still had the Texas plates, thank you very much!) and drive for hours. Sometimes I think that's the problem in our walk with Christ (at least mine anyway)...we keep whining 'are we there yet?' No kids, not yet. Or we keep asking 'when are we going to get there?' Well, He didn't give us that answer, but He did tell us a few other things about the trip. He told us to buckle our seatbelts. (put on the armour of God). He told us to go to the bathroom before we left (get rid of all the stuff that holds us back). He told us to fuel up. (eat the Bread of Life and never hunger). He told us to keep our eyes on the road. (be watchful), and He also told us to enjoy the ride. (He gave us life abundantly and told us repeatedly not to fear). So with those instructions you'd think we'd be all set. But lately I feel like I'm not enjoying the ride. My walk with Christ feels still and staid. I struggle to read the word, I struggle to pray and I'm not real enthusiastic about going to church. I don't think faith is a feeling and I love my church. It's just been rather an odd journey these days and one that I've not had much fun on. Perhaps I'm ready to go home, perhaps. Maybe I feel like I've been down this road one too many times and I think I know what's around the corner. Maybe I just need to stop whining about getting there and enjoy the scenery. And btw what's up with that? I love life! I find the absolute beauty that is God's creation makes me worship Him all the more...but I must tell you without a doubt this world holds nothing for me and I would go to be with Him this very instant if I could. But I'm still here, and my faith in Him won't go away. No matter how much I mess up, don't have it together or stumble over my own dumb feet, I'm buckled in and ready to go. I read several articles today about this same subject. Funny how the very things you struggle with sound in what you read, hear and see. I think, not so much of a coincidence - God is funny that way. He always reaches across the seat and puts His arm around you and lets you know He's the One taking you there. Andiamo Papa!

It's more than that...

Memorial Day is tomorrow. Everyone was happy on Friday because it was a 3 day weekend...a paid day off with barbecue - woo hoo! I was happy, I still am. But I forgot. How could I? I mean I only have 3 children serving our country. Yes, three. My two oldest and one of my step sons. Major nods to you 3!
I have always had nothing but the deepest respect for those who serve our country. I remember when my son Josh was in JROTC and the vultures - I mean recruiters would come to talk to him. One recruiter asked me how I felt about him serving. I replied "I believe it's an honor to lay your life down for your country whether you agree with it (your country) or not." He looked at me weird. That was when Josh was in high school. Well, the prom is over, the war is on and it's for reals now. I still think it's a great honor. My children and other parent's children and husbands and wives and parents - loved ones all over the world - are serving, protecting and fighting so that we can say we agree or disagree. But it's more than that. They are serving, protecting and fighting for so much more. And tomorrow we honor those who not only served, Memorial Day is about honoring those who died serving. The truest heroes. To the millions who died, we salute you. To the millions of family members who lost a loved one, we honor you and thank you and pray for you. In the middle of our barbecues, beach parties & picnics, I hope we remember we can have these things because of them. Sadly, there are those who will only think of their agenda. Those who will go to parades and protest and wave signs that have no business being waved. Shame on you. Irony is, you are free to do these things because of them.

...it is too a word

I feel I need to explain the title, Ventage Inklings. I love to write - there is such a catharsis in the process of placing pen to paper. I started writing poems and short stories when I was around 10 years old. When I write, I go to a place where I am free to express what goes on in my head, heart & soul and then attempt to take the readers of my choice to that place. But to put your heart out there for anyone & everyone to see...that makes writing a totally different thing. All those little tucked away insecurities fly in your face and stick their tongue out at you...this causes me to backspace and edit far too much! :) The word ventage means literally a small opening...and this is my small opening. My little window for you to peek into my writing and rambling on. It's also my little play on words, because I am sure there will be a time or two when I will vent. About 20 years ago I wrote this poem called Inklings. It was for me a definition of the writing process.

It always seems to come to me whenever I least expect it,
And no matter how hard I try, there's just no way to neglect it.
An inkling in the back of my mind that wiggles it's way round,
That suddenly yells out to me, "you HAVE to write this down!".
So, I stop and find a scrap or two of paper lying hidden,
And hunt a pen that works so I may get this darn thought written.
Then finally I sit me down and try a little self expression.
So that I may leave upon this world my very own impression.
Dana Moya 1989 Copyrighted

Inklings was also a literary group with members the likes of J.R.R. Tolkien & C.S. Lewis. I didn't know that little fact at the time I wrote the poem, but it gave it a little more meaning for me. The definition of inkling is a slight knowledge or vague notion...that's me, slight knowledge and vague notions! And there you have it. The deep and spiritual (not) meaning of the title. I hope you visit me from time to time, and share some of your own ventage inklings!

And this is just the beginning...

(Should I sing "We've Only Just Begun" - um NO.) So it begins people. (I hope you are happy.) I won't promise you laughs or even smiles. I can't say it will be deep or spiritual. But I will say this, it will be honest and open and free of charge...and that, my lovelies, is all I can do!