Lions and Titties and Bears – Oh My!
This weekend I participated in a mother/daughter ritual. I don’t think I am very good at these rituals. I found it amazingly…funny. I don’t think the somber realm of mother/daughter rituals is really supposed to be so hysterical. *shrugs* ah well….
Chickie needed a new bra. This is an event. It has always been an event which she avoids like the plague. She prefers to ignore the fact that she has boobies. When she DOES acknowledge them, it tends to be in a most unrealistic manner.
You see Chickie has the sort of boobies that women pay $20,000.00 to get. They are ….well…. let’s just say they enter the room a few seconds before she does. Yep. Big ‘uns. But she apparently sees titlets. Her sense of reality here is severely warped. Prior to our bra shopping excursion, she was fairly certain she was a rather ‘full’ B cup. I informed her she was a couple of letters of the alphabet off…but what do I know? I’m only her mother.
So I promised to take her bra shopping, but only if she promised to let a "professional boobie lady" measure her at the store. Reluctantly, she promised and we were off to the store.
As soon as we hit the parking lot she began back-tracking on her promise. She would ONLY be measured if the person doing the measuring was female and OLD. And really…she didn’t NEED to be measured, she’d just try on some things until something fit.
Fortunately for Chickie, there was no clerk in evidence when we hit the lingerie department. We did a preliminary cruise of the department to get the lay of the land. There really didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the layout. There were bras here, there and everywhere. No sorting by color, size, style or manufacturer. Just daunting rack after daunting rack of ‘slingshots’ as far as the eye could see.
Chickie’s eye lit on a colorful display wall of cute bras – designed to appeal to the teenager I suspect. They were brightly colored with stripes and polka dots and bows and hearts. They had matching panties….er… thongs. Chickie was drawn to the pretties like a moth to a flame. We began to search the wall. A,A,A,B,A,A,A,A,A,B,C,A,A,A,A,B,A,D! Bingo! We found one that I deemed would be worth trying on based on the size boasted on the tag. Although, really, I don’t know WHY anybody who had that size of chest would actually want that layer of padding…..
We cruised the racks a while longer, growing more and more frustrated with each rack. You see, the "cute" bras are apparently made for chicks with little perky numbers. Those bras made with the more substantial bosom in mind sported industrial strength shoulder straps and steel belted lace cups. More geriatric looking than young and fun. (Although, really, the idea of a young and fun bra gives a mom shivers to think about….)
After careful inspection of all 137 racks in the store, we came up with a handful of prospective candidates and headed to the dressing room. That’s where the real laughter began. You see, Chickie wanted me in the dressing room with her…but she didn’t want me to SEE anything. Thus began the bra trying-on olympics. I got to hand it to her. I have never gone through such a complicated set of maneuvers for anything – much less to try on a bra. It was like a carefully choreographed ballet. I suppose I COULD have made some effort to relieve her….but, quite truthfully, I was interested in how long she could hold on to the routine. Apparently……indefinately.
She tried on the cute buttons, bows and polka dot number with the padding. It sort of sat out there on the end of her boobies. Rather like pasties with straps. At first she tried adjusting the girls so they’d fit in…but even she had to admit that this was ludicrous. We moved on.
Next was the sexy little number….that so successfull squished her boobs in that they popped out the top – giving her a second set of boobies. I gracefully choked down my laughter and handed her the one in the size I had picked out for her…..and even more gracefully gagged on my smug I-told-you-so look when it actually…..fit.
Ah yes, but the Olympics of lingerie was not over yet. She tried on several more. She popped out the sides of one and the bottom of another. I could no longer contain myself and muttered a few choice words about "mother knows best" and got one of those if-looks-could-kill expression for my reward. I quietly handed her another bra to gyrate into.
When all was said and done…we found one acceptable candidate. It wasn’t all that she wanted, but I managed to assuage her hurt feelings by buying her some almost-underwear to replace the ones that our darlingling doggie Cassidy has a penchant for chewing up. Then we headed for another store and did it all again.
At some point Chickie decided I needed a new bra. She’s right. I do. But there was NO WAY I was going to go through that bit of shopping with her advice. Nope. There are some things a mother just shouldn’t have to endure. I’ll just keep on making do with the one with the stains from my hair dye on it and the one with the middle hook missing for now, thankyouverymuch.
At the end of the day….we had secured 2 bras and a bucket load of almost underwear. I went home and straight to bed. Next time Chickie needs to go underwear shopping….I think I’ll send her to Virginia to visit her father………….
This is SO like tales of my mother and I bra shopping!
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OMG I’d rather pinch myself until I bleed than bra shop. Especially with my mother. What I do is fine one or two that I like and then look for the same style # and size on ebay. Congrats on making it through the day without a fight. hugs…
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OMG that’s all i can say.
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Those cute little deals for people who don’t need a bra are just depressing. This was a very entertaining entry, though. Too bad there was no ancient clerk with a tape measure around…….that would have been even more hilarious.
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Your daughter and mine have a lot in common when it comes to shopping for bras. I wasn’t allowed in the dressing room when she tried hers on. If I was in the dressing room, I wasn’t allowed to look at her while she was changing. I think she can buy bras on her own now; she’s 21 and I haven’t had to go with her for awhile. Your story is really funny and sounds so familiar.
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I hate bra shopping because I’m the size she is.
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OMG I am laughing so hard at this…because I am dealing with the exact same thing. The girl and I went bra shopping recently and not only was I not allowed into her dressing room, she tried to convince me I shouldn’t even be allowed into the AREA of the dressing rooms.
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This is so funny! 🙂 I remember going through this with my oldest daughter, lol!
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I have NEVER participated in a mother/daughter ritual, either as the mother or as the daughter, that DIDN’T get reduced to hysterical giggling. Jeeze, at #1 Daughter’s first pelvic exam we had the doctor laughing so hard she couldn’t get the speculum in the right place. (Poor Daughter.)
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Since I only have sons, I guess I’ll never be able to experience this little ritual myself, but I sure enjoyed reading about it from your perspective. Too funny. 🙂
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Oh, this entry has me laughing so hard I’m CRYING!! It’s good to see you writing this way. I love these entries! Dare I hope for a Daddy entry soon?? Really, P, you ought to write a book.
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Girl stuff
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Yesterday I learned that I am wearing the wrong bra. oh no!
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ryn~ actually would you ask one of your students? I would love to have more than just the technical translation.
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lol
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I have pix up. Come see. With a smile…
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LMAO Hugz
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HA! Applause from my titlets. They can do that on a good day.
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Ha. She’s so grown and yet so very young at the same time. There are some things I don’t miss about having kids at home. Going into fitting rooms with them is definitely one of them. : )
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*giggles from this corner of the planet* Oh dear! I can’t imagine how anyone over 16 could possibly want her mother to go with her when buying bras. You must have a far better relationship with your daughter than I ever had with my mother! As a teenager I made the same mistakes as Chickie, though thankfully the choice was far more limited then, but I finally accepted reality – big boobs!
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Oh God I’m so glad I don’t have daughters after reading this. *LOL* It’s bad enough getting a bra to fit ME, let alone someone else. I feel her pain. 🙂
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ryn~ thank you so much!!!! I am anxious to read it =0)
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hehehehehe I’m very glad to know that I’m not alone!! I’d rather die than bra shop… I’m a DD on one side, and a D on the other! Your completly right, if you dare think you can be sexy at this tit size you are quite mistaken! Aperently only grandmothers and nuns have tits that big! Oy (randomed in)
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Exactly why I didn’t take my mother with me bra shopping. One of us may not have made it out alive! LOL Found you on random, hope you don’t mind!
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ryn: I’ve just started massage therapy school this week. I won’t be done for a year!! But to finish out the rest of my intrests will take quite a bit longer! We’re working on reflexology (hand and foot massage) today.. I’m not sure when we’re getting to cranial sacral! Soon I hope!!!
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read the son one first… this was certainly a great read, but on a subject that the father of twin daughters (me) kinda gives me the squirms… not having a son makes me wonder how that would have gone if I did….keep peace and love for you and yours thru Wilma, and forever after. still chuckling….
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Ha, sounds like some of the expeditions I’ve been on! I have substantial “boobies” myself. It’s gotten easier to find pretty bras, but I feel Chickie’s pain in having to look for “old lady” type bras. I remember when the Wonder Bra came out — they only went up to 38. I needed a higher size. What I can’t figure out is, don’t the manufacturers realize, us bigger sizes NEED pushing up, and
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the “little miss perkies” can fend for themselves?
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Brilliant!! LOLOLOLOL! I wouldn’t accept my boobies until I was out of primary school, all my friends had bras that were triangles of fabric whereas I needed something a little more thre dimensional, but it was only when I hit 11 3/4 that I allowed my mum to buy me one.I’m now very good at having my size checked because I am a little like chickie size wise and don’t want them at my knees!
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I can relate! M, bless her, goes braless with impunity. Until I found discount sports bras at K-Mart they were the third most expensive item of clothing I owned, behind coats and footwear. Because if I have to run and I’m braless I end up hitting myself in the face….And bless K-Mart.
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This was so funny! Such wonderful denial has to be admired, or at least given an entry of such enjoyable length. 🙂
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Its no fun being overly endowed and none of the cute stuff fits.
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