Sunday, March 27, 2011

Nice Knickers, Redux

A little something I have noticed: The older I get, the easier it becomes to talk about my underwear.

I enlisted the help of my friend K-, who is like a cheap version of Clinton & Stacy, on a What Not to Wear-style mission to the mall today. Instead of a $5,000 Visa card, I had these instructions from Sean - "Don't get crazy. And buy a bra."

Our first stop was NY&Co. where she made me try on every.fucking.thing in the store, and was brutally honest about what she thought. I walked out with more than I thought I would, and some things I wouldn't have even tried on if I'd gone by myself.

"Now we're going to get a bra." she said. I was a little afraid she was going to make me get topless with her in the dressing room. I like her, but I don't think we're good enough friends for her to manhandle the girls.

She took me to Gap Body (I didn't even know there was a Gap Body) and put me in the capable hands of Michelle, who was, to my great relief, a woman of average size and shape. I refuse to discuss my intimate apparel with anyone who could get their entire body into one of my pant legs.

"I need a bra, Michelle. I wear nursing bras. Apparently, they are not attractive and do nothing for me."

She asked my size and when I told her, she cocked an eyebrow. "OK, she said. I'll give you that one, and one a size up, so you can compare for comfort." What I didn't realize at the time was that the eyebrow was saying "Bitch, who do you think you're kidding?"

The first one (the size I said I was) made me look like I was having a mammogram. The second one was not much better.

"Huh." I said to the boob pancakes in the mirror. "Huh. Michelle! I don't think your bras are sized correctly." She handed me the next size up. "Yeah, Michelle! I don't wear that size! Hahahahahaha!"


I totally wear that size! What the hell? "When is the last time you bought a bra? That wasn't a nursing bra?" Good question, Michelle. Ummm, five years ago? So maybe things have changed. Maybe after three kids and a total of four and a half years (and counting) of nursing, things have shifted. I have to admit, things looked better in that enormous brassiere.

"That's where your boobs are supposed to be." said K-.
"I suppose my nursing bras were a bit of a let down. Hahaha!" Not everyone appreciates breastfeeding humor.

They steered me toward the panties.

"Look Michelle, I have requirements for my underwear. They must fully conceal the meat apron." Her eyes widened. She clearly had not had children, especially by c-section. I explained - "Imagine you're wearing an apron, made of meat. A meat apron. I can't have meat apron hanging out of my drawers." I don't think the Gap is paying Michelle enough to deal with people like me. I had to break it down for her. "Michelle, I buy my underwear in plastic bags, 10 to a bag. Sometimes there's a bonus 2 pair, for a total of 12. I am having a hard time with the idea of premium panties."

She showed me a pair with buttons down the front. Are you shitting me, Michelle? Buttons? "I don't think I've ever actually unbuttoned mine," she said. "I mean, to take them off or anything."

"Well, God. That's good to know, Michelle! I'm glad I won't have to unbutton my panties to take them off!" I have visions of being in some public restroom and pissing my pants because I can't get my damned panties unbuttoned.

I ended up buying not one, but three enormous magic bras. Michelle pawed through the sale bins and found five pair of panties in my size that met my specifications. And the pair with the buttons?

Oh, hell yes.

1 comment:

  1. Love it! Oh, how I understand the pain. A human mom's capacity for denial is impressive, no?