Bosoms, Buddies: Part Deux

When I was about twenty one I decide to bite the bullet and take the matters in hand, as it were, and see if there was anything I could do to assist Mother Nature.  A very sincere friend told me if I could get fitted in a bra that wasn’t padded the girls might have room to grow.

So with high hopes and a good amount of gullibility I set off on the mission to become more,  ummm, boobalicious.

Back in the day, 40+ years ago, the upscale department store in Oklahoma City was John A. Brown’s.  It is now known as Dillard’s, but back then it was still John A. Brown’s.  Please excuse the wandering back in time. It seems to happen a lot these days… Now, where was I?

Oh, yes.  Taking affirmative steps to prove or disprove the validity of the claim of non-padded bras.  I am, if nothing else, enthusiastic in the pursuit.  I don’t know why.  The girls, although miniscule have done fine up to this point, but I digress.

I confidently stride into the lingerie department and head for foundations.  Here is where it starts getting dicey.  The saleslady approaches me and in a kindly, but professional tone said, “May I help you sir?” 

I started to turn on my heel and hot-foot it out the door, but I took a deep breath and said, “I’m a young woman and I need to try to get fitted for a non-padded bra.”

Mind you while I did have on casual clothes and my hair was short, though not as short as now, I did have on a padded bra at the time.  Anyway, the saleslady kind of arched her eyebrow and asked me to follow her to the fitting room.  Well, I disrobed, which was traumatic enough being shy back in the day, and the lady took her measurements that she needed and went on the quest.

When she returned with several possibilities in hand we started trying them on.  I kid you not, every single bra I tried on, and there were a few, you could roll up the cup, the A-cup I might add, you could roll it up and pin it and it wouldn’t have made a difference.  Bless her heart, the lady tried, she did. Made several trips out to try different brand names.  After the last round she very kindly suggested that I might try the juniors department. Perhaps they could help me there.  I thanked her for her patience, dressed and walked straight out of the store and never looked back.

Fast forward now to Christmas when I was sixty years old.  I was in Ft. Worth at Ben and Diane’s (baby brother and s.i.l.) and we were opening gifts. Ben handed me a package and I looked and saw it was from Laura, the niece that is getting married next month.  I proceeded to open it with all eyes upon me and it was two brassieres from Victoria’s Secret.  I know I must have gone red with embarrassment because there are some things that you don’t want to open on Christmas with everyone watching. Laura, in her sweetest voice said, “Aunt Helen, you need to start wearing a bra.”

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get used to wearing a bra after sixty years of not wearing a bra?

With age and menopause combined, the forty pounds I put on had endowed me somewhat, and I guess the tank top tees and the loose t-shirt or tops over them wasn’t enough to not embarrass the kid.

So the two things I’ve been making myself do for this month before the wedding is wearing shoes when I go out to dig in the flower beds and garden because it is dang hard cleaning the dirt out from under toenails and…

Wearing a bra of some sorts, whether it’s a jog bra or a regular one, so I won’t be fidgeting and pulling at it during the wedding and reception.

That’s my bosom tale and it is a true story. 

I hope to post some more corn another corn post this evening.  Enjoy your Sunday.