April 30, 2012
Bras -- We've Come a Long Way Baby!
My blog is suppose to be about either writing or working as a waitress, but this week it's about bra shopping. In my defense, I did go to a writer's lecture before I went bra shopping at the mall on Saturday and, after I bra shopped, I tied on the old black apron and played server. So it sorta pertains.
The photo above is what bras looked like when I first began wearing them, when I was considered a junior miss. What does that mean anyway? I always wished my hair would swoop and look shiny like the girl on the bra box, but I digress. Most women remember buying their first bra, and in the old days it meant standing in a tiny dressing room with white walls, unflattering lighting, feeling totally embarrassed, while your mother handed you ugly white bras and stood outside the door asking, "does that one fit, dear?" When I got a little older, and shopped without my mom for a bra, it didn't improve except now I was totally alone, again in the white dressing room, attempting to pick out a bra by myself which was as difficult as deciding on my major on college. So fraught with possible errors! As any woman of a certain age knows, times have sure changed.
There's something about all that pink that makes you feel so girly. Maybe they pump in estrogen into the cooling vests. I saw one man shopping by himself in this pink paradise and he looked afraid which struck me as normal. Men who look too comfortable in Victoria's Secret....I think they must have a secret.
As I stood in the pink dressing room, with its subdued lighting and pleasant music, it even smelled good in there, I felt as if I could stay awhile, unlike years ago when I couldn't wait to flee the confines of the dressing room and leave with any white bra. Those days are over. The pink dressing room was so pretty and the laughter and voices of women trying on bras so comforting, fun even. I even had two young women who treated me as if they were my handmaidens and I their queen. They looked at the bras I tried on (show us each one they insisted!! ) and scrutinized the fit, assured me I didn't have a fat back, assured me that I was doing fine, no worries, even when I drooped in one particularly unfortunate bra. "It's all about the straps, " the pretty and wise young woman told me. Indeed it is.