monkeymom's Diaryland Diary
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In which I discuss underwear, so be warned.
This is another entry I am writing for Diana, who mentioned bitterly today that it doesn't matter to her if no one updates their journals, it's not like she needs to be entertained! You know me, my whole reason for living is to amuse Diana, just like Neil was born to be entertainment for Nick. (That is also the reason why we briefly considered getting a second dog when Buffy was young, a dog for our dog, to keep her company!)
For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn? - Jane Austen
In the interest of making sport for my neighbors, I will tell you that I went shopping today to buy a new bra. In an informal poll of my friends and relatives (Diana, and also Melissa the lab tech, who just dropped in to pick up some reports), it looks like everyone does what I do, that is, wears their bras until they are dingy gray and practically in rags.
I always make sure my daughters have cute underwear, though, with matching bras and panties, because you never know who is going to see theirs, as they change in the locker room for gym class, and they live in dorms with roommates, and what if, God forbid, they get in an accident and have to go to the emergency room? I'm pretty sure you get better medical care if you are wearing nice underwear!
When you have been married for many years and have grown children - in other words, you are no longer dating, and if you are, well, that's your business - you are most likely wearing the same tired old two or three bras, and I'll bet the third one is your worst one that you only wear when both of your others are in the laundry at the same time, which only happens a couple of times a year. Your husband is not so much interested in your bra as what's under it, if you're lucky, and there is really no reason to spend good money on something no one else sees.
Sometimes, though, your bras are just so old, and so tired, and possibly one of the cups is starting to separate from the mangy elastic, so dang, you have to go out to buy new bras. Ugh. That's really not fun for anyone, and I'm not even going to go into the nightmare quality of the fitting room mirror experience.
RA needed to buy a birthday present for her granddaughter, so after we got a hamburger and a soda, we went to do our shopping. We went to the lingerie department first, but I quickly decided that I would do my bra shopping alone, because looking at sizes is embarrassing, and also, RA was standing next to me singing along with the Muzak! I told her to go ahead and start her own shopping and I would catch up with her.
I found a couple of likely prospects and took them to the fitting room, where I found that someone had swapped the bra in one box for a different bra, one that was bright blue lacy with a rhinestone sewn on between the cups. I didn't even consider trying that one on, go fig. The other one fit, and it felt good, so good in fact, that I put my old dingy one in the box, and put my shirt back on over the new one. Ahh, I had forgotten how good support feels! I left the blue bra in the wrong box on the shelf in the fitting room for someone to take care of, and I went back and got another one like the first one, so woot! I have two new bras!
I did have an anxious moment when I was checking out, because as I stood in line with the two boxes of bras, and RA behind me humming with the Muzak (I was texting Kim, to tell her I was in hell!), I had a sudden fear that the cashier would take the bras out of their boxes to make sure the correct size was in the correct box, and I would be shamed by my ancient bra that I had shoved into the box! Luckily the cashier was young and careless, because she didn't bother to check, although I was prepared to laugh it off if she had.
So that was my big adventure today. Oh, and the anti-anxiety drops from the health food store? Yeah, they were effective for RA when she had her MRI, and I tried them today too, just to see how they worked. They had a similar effect to the Happy to Fly pills - we were both feeling pretty happy. Or maybe it was the handful of Crack Eggs each of us ate in the car on the way to the store.
Extra credit question : How many bras do you own and what kind of condition are they in? Respond in the Comments section.
1:57 a.m. - 2009-04-01
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