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.