The Bra Lady

Think about trying on clothes, all you ladies out there.  You go to the store, you pick out a pair of pants to try on in two sizes - say a size 12 (that most likely fits), & a size 10 - well, just in case.  Then the size 12 fits & the size 10 barely makes it past your thigh.  So, you suck it up & buy the 12.  Easy enough, right?  Well, going shopping for a bra - now that's a different story...

My friend Susan said to me, "Helen, you really must go see my friend, the Bra Lady.  She has the cutest little store with some really beautiful things!  She will give you a personal fitting as well, to make sure you are wearing the right size."
I surreptitiously glanced down at my offending breasts, which were apparently encapsulated in an inferior as well as mis-sized bra.  I crossed my arms over them.
"Oh?"  I said calmly.  Time for a defensive maneuver; a little name dropping. "I was fitted long ago.  At Victoria's Secret."  Victoria's Secret has some small reputation in the world of bras, after all.
"Hmpf."  sniffed Susan, in a somewhat unimpressed manner.  "You did say you wanted a new bra..."
"True,"  I agreed, I could certainly use one.  Normally I would wait til I went back to the States.  But hey, why not give a local business a shot?  After all, I told myself, Jamaican women have breasts, too...

So, we hopped into Susan's car to seek out the Oracle of Undergarments.  What ever this woman may or may not be, I thought to myself, she certainly has had an invigorating effect on my friend!  Susan had a sparkle in her eye & her lips were parted in anticipation as she pressed her pedal to the metal, squealing out of my parking lot before I had barely shut the car door.   

We found the bra store in a cute little old cottage that looked exactly like the witches house made out of candy that got Hansel & Gretel in trouble.  We fended our way thru the profusion of flora, crossed the porch & entered the Holy Land.

"Hello, Ladies," the Bra Lady said from behind her counter.  Okay, I thought, she doesn't LOOK like a witch.  She came out from behind her counter & quickly ushered me into a dressing room.  I took off my T-shirt & waited.  In she breezed, "Now, I am going to tell you what WE are going to do.  First, I am going to ask you about the bra you are wearing.  Look in the mirror,"  I dutifully turned.  "Now, tell me about your bra."
"Hmmm,"  I began.  What to say about my bra?  It lives a happy life in my underwear drawer with my few other ill-fitting bras.  It is washed carefully each time in a special "bra bag" so that it will not get it's wires crossed (Ha!) & it is hung to dry.  I never thought about the life of my bra, really.  Obviously I knew better than to point out that is was from Victoria's Secret... I picked a safe answer that would be sure to please,  "Well, it just doesn't seem to be quite right..."
"Exactly!" the Bra Lady pounced upon my opening.  "Do you remember what size it is?"
Ha!  I knew that answer!  "38C."
The Bra Lady dropped her eyes, shaking her head at the pure folly of the legions of misguided women that she has encountered along her lonely path as the Bra Guru.  She muttered to the tape measure in her hand.  "Lord, have mercy."
She spun me around to show me the back of my bra.  "See the back?  The band is where you are going to get MOST of your support.  I should be able to slip just two fingers between your back & your bra band."  She quickly slid both of her arms up to the elbows thru the back of my bra.  I looked down at my breasts, who didn't even seem to notice the company.  "You are definitely NOT a 38!"

First commandment handed down - THOU SHALT NEVER AGAIN PURCHASE A 38!

So, she briskly turned & went in search of a bra or two.  "What about the cup size?"  I tossed after her.  "Don't you need to measure for that too?"
She turned patiently & said,  "There is NO point in even ATTEMPTING to get your cup size until we get a bra that FITS PROPERLY."

Okay, then!

Soon she returned, with a 36, that she soon deemed unacceptable, & a 34 (Lord have mercy), that she determined was the correct size.  Then she set to work on the cup size.  I looked in the mirror.  There was, shall we say, some 'spillage'.  "This doesn't seem quite right, either.  Tho I do feel the support you mentioned with this new band size."
"You are right,"  she agreed,  "But first you need to reach in there & arrange everything!  You must put your hand inside the cup & pull everything toward the center."  She demonstrated this on herself, making a scooping motion across her breast like a backhoe excavator.  A fleeting thought crossed my mind - so, this is what men are doing with their hands in their pants all the time!  I looked down at myself after this operation & found that my cleavage, which I used to consider an asset, had now flattened out & wrinkled like it had been ironed wrong.  

"Oh my, this can't be right either."  She agreed & made me to understand that NOW I had to sweep with my hand from the breast bone into the cup as well.  "Like windshield wipers", she said.  I tried to get a mental picture of this, but could not.

After several more tries & a pile of bra's littering the dressing room floor like a fresh snow fall, she pronounced that I was now in the RIGHT bra.  I turned to the mirror.  There I stood, in all my glory, resplendent in a 34F (merciful Father!) - my breasts fully lifted & supported by what felt like a steel belted radial bra band, with specially formed "gel" straps (missing only dual exhausts & a Hemi under the hood!) made by a company called Natori.  Susan was called to witness this amazing transformation, as I put my T-shirt on over this new bra, so that she could be made to 'ooo'! & 'ahhh'! along with us.

Then to seal the deal, the Bra Lady & Susan said the one thing that would be sure to take me to the cash register...

"You look like you've lost 10 pounds!" said the Bra Lady.
"Well, I actually HAVE lost 10 pounds."
"Then it's 10 MORE pounds! - 20 pounds!"  Susan chimed in.
"I'm never leaving this store!"  I exclaimed.

Well, we did leave - eventually.  In my bag were two of these miraculous bras, a pair of matching panties, that were 'ruched' to give shape to my derriere.  I tried those on myself, not wanting to have to have the Bra Lady ensure that I 'reached in there & moved every thing to the middle'.  Oh, & some earrings, that somehow made my ensemble complete.  Meanwhile, Susan ran up a bill bigger than mine - & she already HAD a miracle bra or two...

I left with a promise to return, off we ran, Susan & I, wild & free (yet fully harnessed!), laughing out the door, clutching our purchases to our breasts (sorry, couldn't resist), hoping to return to this mecca again one day...