Bras...

I'm going to get on my horse about bras.  They flat make me crazy.  My insanity began many, many years ago when I was just a flat chested kid.  Not just an ordinary flat chested young girl but one that was so flat chested it looked like I'd been steam rolled.  I used to fret about it some especially in senior high and girl's locker room and showers but when I looked at my older sister and my mom, I pretty much figured my lot in life, padded bras.  Then someone told me if I could find a bra that wasn't padded that fit my little ones would have room to grow. I was naive, I was gullible and I grabbed at that little ray of hope.

I was 21 years old.  I walked into the lingerie department of one of the nicest department stores in Okla. City and knew I was in trouble when the matronly and proper looking saleslady approached me and said, "May I help you sir?".  True story.  I sucked it up and explained my mission, all the while watching the doubt grow in her eyes.  She gamely took me to a fitting room, took a few (very few) measurements and excused herself to go find brassieres for me to try on. When she returned she brought several styles for me to try on and we began.  They all fit well around my chest but when it came to cups... sigh... all of them you could have rolled up and pinned the extra fabric. After trying the different styles she graciously suggested I might want to try the juniors department, that they might have something for young teens, i.e. training bras.  Which by the way is such a dumb term,  I mean, you have to train those puppies?  Don't they just grow into their own?  You have to smack those babies around and tell them you go to the left and you go to the right... seems kind of silly to have to "train" them.  I walked out of the store and bought tank tops for my underwear.

But, once again, I digress from my original gripe. I went through the first 60 years of my life not needing to worry about a bra but 40 pounds and 2 inches shorter, I was told, "Aunt Helen, you really need to buy a bra."  Ask not for whom the bell tolls... it tolls for me.  My simple life was about to get very complicated and frustrating.

Okay, I'll compromise.  I'll wear a bra when I go to Ft. Worth to church and out to eat and to weddings and such so I don't embarrass anyone with heading south boom-booms that you can almost tell are boom-booms. So I go bra shopping, this time at WalMart.  Forget that high dollar stuff at the nicer stores. I found a couple to try that I could fasten in front of me and then swing them around and put my arms in the straps and pull them up into place.  I found jog bras that looked like they might be comfortable but it was like trying to put on a girdle if you stepped into it and pulled it up into place. I had flashes of someone trying to hang me from the nearest tree when I tried putting it on over my head.  My shoulders and my elbows prevent me from reaching behind and fastening a bra the normal way without pain, one of those aging things. Why can't you find bras that fasten in the front?  I understand that when some fellow invented the brassiere that ladies had dressers and undressers.  I had a few of the undressers in my life and have been an undresser in my life, but no way have I ever had a dresser.  I found two bras that closed in the front... minimum cup size C.  Forget that!  I'm not rolling up the cups and pinning them either.

Since I have a couple of visits and a wedding looming in the future the search shall continue.  I may even have to go to a higher end store that has a legitimate lingerie department... hell, I may even go to a Victoria's Secret