Little Shop of Horrors

Tags

bathing suit, fashion, humiliation, humour

As if facing the hated shopping trip for undergarments wasn’t enough to tax the stalwart, in less than a week, I also forged into bathing suit territory with iron determination to come out with my dignity intact.

You may be thinking…didn’t you just buy a bikini last year? Yes, I did! And it’s perfect for swimming in my Mom’s pool. My parents have said they’ll love me no matter what, and I have already scarred my kids for life. I mean, they were doomed from the moment they were conceived. But this year we’re going to a beach where I can only assume will be covered with half-starved babes with perfect hair in brightly coloured, postage stamp-sized lycra. And where there are beach babes, there will be men of all ages lusting after them. Hopefully not also wearing brightly coloured, postage stamp-sized lycra. [shudder]

“I feel attractive in a bathing suit”, thought no woman ever. “Let’s go bathing suit shopping” said no woman ever. Not unless she is suffering the serious side effects of starvation. [If this happens, feed her immediately!] No woman enjoys the experience of stripping nearly naked in a tiny cubicle with unkind lighting and multiple mirrors. Something happens once we cross the dressing room threshold and close the door. Our femininity transform into something troll-like and our confidence puddles around our ankles. A dainty gazelle becomes a floundering hippo. No amount of chocolate can truly soothe the bruising our self-esteem takes when the (unrealistic) image we have in our mind of how this beautiful item will look on us, is crushed like a spider with a shoe. It’s a swift slap that stuns and stings. Long after we’ve left the dressing room.

Monday morning, I ventured into the store minutes after it opened. Fewer witnesses to see me sweating through my dress. The 12 year old, size 0 store clerk was cheerful and not pushy, which I appreciated. I browsed…and left the store. Baby steps.

Bathing suit stores are Little Shops of Horrors.

An hour later.

After some deep breathing exercises, I returned to the store, much to the surprise of the store clerk, and bravely explained my concerns. I need support! Moral and for the girls! Since it’s the beginning of July, most of their stock is gone [winter stock is on its way], but the store clerk earned her pay pulling a few suits that were close to my size, and whisked me to the back. They were all black [except one that made me look like an obese worm].  I guess black is slimming?

I tried her first pick, a tiny black number that required 3 tiny hangars. My inner babe had high hopes. This suit was cut as an “X” and looked amazing. On the hangar. Instead, it was amazingly difficult to figure out. Once the hangars were removed, I was confused. How am I supposed to wear on a slingshot? Which strap went where, and why isn’t that covering there. Suddenly an albino hippo was oozing out around the waist. Other things were oozing out too. It got so ridiculous, I actually laughed out loud. I think I scared the little clerk hovering beyond the blue curtain. I know I scared my sexy inner babe! She may never be seen again!

There was also this:

After nearly half an hour of sweating, grunting, moaning and elastic snapping, I did find a simple black suit that will do. That was the good news.

The bad news? I cheated with Henry again. And I enjoyed it.

Happy Weekend!

 

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Humiliation

Tags

fashion, humiliation, humour, lingerie

Avoiding humiliation is the core of tragedy and comedy. John Guare

There’s no way around it! Shopping for undergarments is always a humiliating experience. From trying to judge the correct size inconspicuously on the sales floor, to stripping down in those tiny cubicles, to trying to squeeze into said item…and sometimes getting stuck. There’s nothing inspiring about your reflection under the harsh lighting. You look more like a ripe Anju pear with one arm, squatting awkwardly with one the arm flailing aimlessly over your head, your body trapped in a mini dress with a size tag double what you tried on the last time!

 Humiliation!

 So whatever possessed me to try on a “slimming garment”? Was it the sleek lines it promised? The price on the tag? Or the brand name? I think it was mostly the brand name: Marilyn Monroe. And it whispered to me. Marilyn was sexy with real lady curves, and men still have dreams about bringing her home to meet Mom. I instantly flashforwarded to a slimmer, trimmer me in a little black dress, batting my lashes over a cocktail, with a row of men adoring drooling on my feet.

Which is weird.

 When and where would I ever have the occasion to wear a little black dress, much less drink a cocktail!?! As for men, I have one, and quite honestly, one is enough!

 But…I do have a little black dress, and should I ever have the occasion to wear it, like a high school reunion (that I wouldn’t attend anyway), I should be prepared.

 I carefully read the label. Twice. I didn’t want to humiliate myself after all!

 According to the label, based on my bust size and hip size, I should be a size small. Hmmm….Though my rib cage is only 30”, not 36” as listed, I knew I’d take it up…elsewhere! Right? Typically bras under  32” only come in A cups and I’m way, way past the beginning of the alphabet. As for waist size, it was a few inches over where I am so I surmised this was a reasonable estimate.  Can you see where this is going?

 I handed the garment over to the perky 12 year old at the change room counter and blushing, followed her to the back. The curtain scraped, “sheesh”, as I closed it. Even the walls were skeptical, and don’t get me started on the lighting. I stripped down…winter coat, winter boots, sweater, pants.  And I paused, staring at my reflection, with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. There seemed to be more of me staring back than this morning. I’m certain of it.

 Bracing myself, I inhaled the aromas from Cinnabon (conveniently located right outside the store), mixed with stale sweat from past patrons’ efforts to release their overheating bodies from designer brand names (that made unbelievable promises).  And I took the plunge.

 I slipped my feet into the head hole and slid that black stretchy hot number all the way up…to my knees, where is clung to me like a snotty 2 year old! I pulled, I wiggled, I heaved. I pleaded silently. I started sweating profusely and turning red in splotches. But it held on like a vise. It took several efforts to peel it off and I stood there, holding it up in front of me, and I thought:

 “I would like to see the girl who thinks she needs this, who can actually wear it…and I need to feed her”!

Of course this isn’t me! There’s a reason this post is called “humiliation”! 🙂

Happy Weekend!

‘Struggle’ is just another word for growth. – Elle Sommer

Jeans, Glorious Jeans

Tags

fashion, humour, jeans

I object! In fact, I strongly object!

I have not struggled all these years with Booty Blues, trying to find the perfect pair of jeans (I’m still looking, by the way), only to be told that I have less than a decade to find them!

As if it wasn’t bad enough to learn the horrible truth about heels and flip-flops, according to the most recent British survey of 2.000 people, people “should retire their jeans at age 53”!

Even the director of the surveying company was shocked by the results! Yes, jean shopping is stressful. We’ve all been there. One in ten consumers will try on up to 6 pairs at a time (which is smart because no 2 pairs of jeans are alike), while 6% of consumers will end their shopping trip in tears (I only cry when I shop for bathing suits and bras).

It gets worse!

Another British survey early in the year concluded that 47 was the actual age to stop wearing jeans and shears long locks! In fact, the earlier study concluded that women over 38 shouldn’t get tattoos (oops – I was 40!), women over 34 should stop taking selfies (oops – did that last week), women over 44 should’t go clubbing or attend music festivals. Finally, women over 40 should stop trying to learn how to use new technology! Twitter shouldn’t be used over the age of 47 and Facebook accounts should be deleted by age 49 (did you know in 2014, 56 percent of online adults over 65 had Facebook accounts?).

Which begs the question – who are these people? Because I want to ask them these questions again when they turn 40!

“You can be the chicest thing world in a t-shirt and jeans – it’s up to you!”
– Karl Lagerfeld

***

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/most-annoying-study-reveals-age-when-women-are-too-old-for-jeans_us_581a31fae4b0c43e6c1d98dd

http://www.today.com/video/the-age-at-which-you-re-too-old-to-wear-jeans-is-799048771812

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/the-age-when-women-are-too-old-for-long-hair-and-skinny-jeans_us_5787a4b0e4b0867123dfdd87

 

Pr-Eyed

Tags

fashion, humiliation, humour, midlife crisis

I’d like to add something to the end of the expression “Pride goeth before a fall”…I’d like to add “or public humiliation”. (I’m an expert on public humiliation!)

I started noticing about a year ago that I needed to discreetly peer over the top of my glasses to read the really small print, like the instructions on a pill bottle. No big deal!

By this Spring, I found myself taking off my glasses at bedtime, to do my Italian lessons on my iPad. Again, no big deal!

Three weeks ago, I was leading the “kids’ time” during church. I was trying to share a story while also balancing a flashlight and my Bible (while one exceptionally precocious child was misbehaving)…and then I had to precariously balance my glasses in my already full hands, just to read to 2 verses of scripture (while keeping one eye on one misbehaving child). Did I mention that this was in front of the congregation…and a guest speaker?

Pride didn’t want to admit it was time to get bi-focals! Pride didn’t want to wear what I was envisioning – the oversized 1980’s lenses with the tell-tale magnified half-moons gracing the bottom of the lense, screaming “OLD”.

I saw my 12 year old optometrist the next day, and he assured me that a lot has changed in lense “technology” since the 1980’s. It was no big deal!

This morning, I picked up my specs and I wish I had done this sooner. I’m ashamed to admit I let pride (or pr-eyed) get in the way! My new “transitions” lenses are no big deal!

Speaking of public humiliation, the Moms held a “Dance Off” after Bible study last night! Little Guy is still young enough that he wasn’t embarrassed to see his Mom bustin’ some moves. I can’t say the same for some of the older kids. Give him a few years. Oh, by then, I’ll still be bustin’ some moves (or an ankle…or hip….) and I won’t have any pride left. It’ll be no big deal!

* * *

This was the second (of what I hope to be many) 10 Minute Monday posts – write for 10 minutes on whatever, no editing (ok, maybe just a little…)!

Canadian Black Friday (a.k.a. Misery)

Tags

fashion, humour, shopping

How do you block the terror out… when it’s already invited itself in?

I went shopping with my Mom last Saturday (which was, according to the stores’ signs, “Canadian Black Friday”). Our goal was to shop the big sale in one of our favourite stores before heading over to visit my Grandmother.

We were greeted at the door by a cheerful sales representative at the door. She was 5’4”, in her 50s with short red hair. She wore black pants and a floral top in classic Fall colours. The colour suited her; the size did not. By all other appearances, she was normal.

She asked if she could “help us”, and we told her we were “just looking”, and continued chatting as we slowly moved from rack to rack. She followed us, jumping into and monopolizing our conversation. It was strange, however, she was friendly and clearly enthusiastic about their product and we let her prattle away. That was probably our first mistake.

She overheard my comment that I liked some of the clothes with a peacock feather print. That was our second mistake. She then proceeded to show me every single item that had a peacock print…and then some. Like jackets – even though I said I don’t wear jackets. And if I happened to escape sneak away, she would hold things up and get my attention by yelling across the store.

Mom and I tried splitting up. We thought that without conversation or comments to “feed her”, she’d become bored with us and latch onto someone else. It almost worked! She did start a conversation with a wizened lady with a walker. Our plan failed, however, when we came together again to compare notes on what we have seen (our third mistake) and another young sales rep. approached us. She barely finished asking “can I help you?” before her face turned pasty white, her eyes widened and she quickly backed away from us. A chill ran up my spine and I knew…she was right behind me! I was like Paul Wilkes in Misery, and she was “Annie Wilkes”.

We ignored our better instincts and discarded the “never leave a man (or woman) behind” rule, in order to take turns chatting with her so the other could shop unmolested. That was our fourth mistake. If we zigged, she zagged. If I touched the hem of a skirt, she would swoop in to ask me if I wanted to try it on. I distinctly remember mouthing “help me” more than once, as Mom circled around me. “Annie” was slowly draining our physical and emotional resources!

The mistakes started piling up fast. We started grabbing selecting items to try on, which bought us some time as she ran back and forth between us and the dressing rooms. But when it came time to try our selections on, we couldn’t identify our rooms. That’s because “Annie” had become our personal shopper and had added a few items to our collection – skirts, tops, purses, necklaces and jackets.

I thought I was safe in the dressing room; instead I was trapped. She kept bringing me more items to try on. She kept asking about sizes. By the time my boots and pants had come off and on several times (I had to be polite and try everything), I was light-headed and sweaty, and starting to panic.

Then my mother asked the unthinkable – was I decent? Could I come out and give her an opinion on the pants she was trying on? By that point, I was dressed in my own clothes again, sitting on the footstool in the fetal position, gently rocking. I knew…I knew that if I stuck my nose out that door, I would be assaulted by a barrage of questions. And I was correct. As soon as she saw me, she practically ran from the front of the store to the back. I admit that I failed as a daughter, nay a human being! I offered Mom my opinion and ducked back into the safety of my cubicle, leaving her in “Annie’s” clutches.

Once it had grown eerily quiet, I gathered my wits about me. I decided the only person who should cause a 40+ woman to cower in her dressing room is an over-bearing mother (or mother-in-law), and I don’t have either one. It was time to put on my Big Girl Panties…and run for my life! I was prepared to use all the tactics I had learned playing hours of Halo – even a melee with my elbow – if it meant getting out alive!

I yelled to Mom that I was heading out. Then I grabbed the sweater, the one item I wanted to buy and focused on the mission – the check-out counter. Mom was close behind me. “Annie” moved fast; I moved faster. I dodged more hangars (and questions) and stayed on task. I bought my sweater.

I left that store with my pocketbook intact, my dignity restored, my sweater bagged, and my Mom…

Mom almost didn’t make it, but the Manager recognized the look of fear in her eyes and saved the day. We fled with our bags clutched in our hands, heading to Tim Horton’s for a restorative cup of tea, and we never looked back!

Why didn’t I just flee the store once she joined our party and started dogging our every step? I’ll tell you why…Canadian Black Friday sale!

***

“Everyday you need a bulletproof vest
To save yourself from what you could never guess!” – Skillet, Rise

Red is the New Me

Tags

humour, midlife crisis

I finally took the plunge! I’m  really not a self-absorbed fluff bunny who snaps selfies every 30 seconds and plasters them all over social media…but I snapped one yesterday! I have no grand aspirations that will be shattered when Disney doesn’t call me to be the next “live action” movie princess. Nor is the quality or composition of this photo meant to be my cover shot for a horror flick. I merely wanted to show off that “Red is the New Me”!

Photo courtesy of http://photographyofgrace.com

And I’m thankful it’s red, because after the first hour of teasing, painting, sighing, and wrapping in foil, when my stylist, Hope, starting washing it out…it was fluorescent orange streaks! I looked like a pylon! Which honestly (and quite sadly), is a step up from looking like a used Q-tip the last time I took a chance on my hair!

Pylon…perhaps fashionable in a construction zone, but not exactly the look I was going for!

This is much better.

I’ve had mixed reviews so far…from “love it” to “I don’t really care for it”..but they don’t have to look in the mirror every morning. I do  – and I like what I see! So if you can’t say something nice, just grimace and nod. I can read body language, and I promise just to smile back!  After all, some middle-aged men buy red sports cars – this cost so much less!

* * *

“There is a shade of red for every woman.” – Audrey Hepburn

“Crazy Shot” Lingerie

Tags

fashion, humour, lingerie, shoes

I made the mistake a few years ago, during a low point, of telling Hubby not to bother buying me any more lingerie and I cleared out most of my drawer. I figured he’d already bought the cow and quite frankly, “the old gray mare, she ain’t what she used to be”. And then I reconsidered and added it back on my birthday/Christmas list. My drawer remains empty…(except for the black bustier I shared with the ladies of Morning Break…and one pastor. To read why, click here).

Since I had half an hour to kill before I picked Little Guy up from camp last night, I stopped in at a new lingerie store. The store name is in French, and if you remove the last 3 letters, it translates to “crazy shot”…and there was something crazy going on inside!

The first thing I noticed was the delicate scent of lavender. Next was the eye candy, shimmering pastel confections with lace and bows. Many of the items were hung on sequined hangers that sparkled like disco balls in the soft, warm light. There was even a white couch facing the dressing room, embellished with lacy and feathery pillows to provide a special someone a private viewing perch. There wasn’t a hint of skank anywhere, just elegance and class…

I gravitated (slowly so as not to be too conspicuous) to the rack on the back wall subtly marked 70% off. It was mostly soft cotton and lace pajamas. I peeked at the price of a simple navy & white striped chemise made of cotton knit….$175.00…and I struggled to not belt out “Are you freaking kidding me?” I can buy an oversized knit T-shirt at Wal-Mart for under $5. Sure, it’s not sexy but I won’t have to put a second mortgage on my house so I can sleep comfortably in the summer.

Obviously, I was not going to be making any purchases today. Slightly disappointed, but not undaunted, I moved across the aisle to the next rack, and not wanting to give the impression that my jaw was dragging on the floor in shock, I picked up a bustier with matching panties. It had solid creamy satin cups edged with pale pink ribbon rosebuds. The body of it was made with delicate, almost ethereal cream lace, and the bottom was a scalloped edge of satin. Perfection! The matching panties were also cream satin and about the size of a postage stamp. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I wanted to scream. It was $450.00. I wanted to ask if the boning came from an actual whale, slaughtered by a blonde Bunny, and deboned in the North Atlantic Sea.

I strolled nonchalantly to the front door, smiled sweetly at the lady at the counter (who thankfully was busy chatting with a buxom broad this whole time), and slipped out the door to my car, where I burst out laughing. Why was it so expensive? The satin was the same polyester blend that I find at the department store. I used to choke at their prices, finding it difficult to justify spending more than $20 on something that I sleep in (and often can’t wear in front of my family – they’ve been scarred enough). I understand that “true” lingerie (as opposed to the mass-produced ready-to-wear variety) is more expensive because they are using a higher quality of fabrics and laces. I wear expensive bras (mostly because I can’t buy my size off the rack). Thanks to gravity, bras need to be well-constructed to provide adequate support. Not only that, but the shape and contours of women’s bodies are not cookie-cutter, so companies are continually experimenting with different cuts and forms to provide support and comfort. But $450!?!? Just imagine how many pairs of fabulous shoes I could buy with that kind of cash…and I can wear them outside the boudoir! Now that’s a wise investment.

Hubby suggested the prices were high based on the location of the store. However, it’s in a strip mall…two doors to the left is a Hockey Lion store, and two doors to the right is a Convenience Store. Hmm…I’m not convinced. But I am convinced that there are women out there with way too much money and who may just be dumb enough to think that if they pay these exorbitant prices, they are collecting something valuable. Perhaps she doesn’t realize that she needs to search from within to find beauty, something far more valuable than a $300 nightgown. I believe a woman with a loving heart and a gentle spirit can look exquisite in a $20 nightgown, and if she is with the right guy, he’ll be blown away by her.

I don’t know how I went from being blow away by exorbitant prices to being blown away by that last statement. Maybe it’s a deeper truth that we all need to remember…it isn’t the price of the gown, or the fabric or label…it really is about what’s inside…and that’s not crazy!

 

Manifesto: Red Shoes

Tags

DP, DP Challenge, humour, shoes, Weekly Writing Challenge

Every women, at some point in her life, must own (and proudly wear) a pair of red shoes. I don’t care if they are stilettos or sneakers, ballet flats or strappy sandals. Why? Because “Cinderella is proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life.” – Author Unknown

“Every woman” encompasses every age and stage. Whether she is a girl on the brink of becoming a woman, or a woman on the edge of becoming a grandmother. Whether she is falling in love, or saying farewell to an old one. Whether she is facing a new opportunity or living in mediocrity. Married or single, young or old – it’s important to feel like a woman. It’s important that she allow herself to be expressive and bold because she is worth it.

For years, I secretly coveted a pair of red high heels, but the dull side of me couldn’t justify such a purchase. Every time I passed a pair in a store window, I felt a twinge of guilt for even looking at such an impractical item. And one day I got tired of feeling guilty. My dreams are small and many will be unrealized…what was the big deal about wearing a pair of shoes in a sassy shade? Who decided I was to spend my lifetime in boring, basic black or blah brown? Only me…I bought a pair of shiny red heels. It was one of the first times I felt (dare I say it) sexy. I felt less like a country bumpkin in the big city; I felt “invincible”.  I wear them often!

I was shopping with my Mom yesterday, looking at red shoes and she casually commented that she wondered about getting a pair of red shoes too, but then what would she wear them with…and I immediately answered “everything”. I pair them with sundresses and jeans. I’ve inspired other women to step outside the box they’ve put themselves in to try some fabulous footwear. Ladies, no more excuses…

It’s time to Colour Our World. That little pop of colour can brighten any woman’s day…and make the world a little sunnier for those around her. “Color your world because the world is too simple in black and white.” –  Daniel Long

It’s time to Challenge Our World. “A shoe is not only a design, but it’s a part of your body language, the way you walk. The way you’re going to move is quite dictated by your shoes.” – Christian Louboutin When a woman feels glamorous, she is more likely to realize and to appreciate, what a beauty she is…inside and out. She will realize that it is okay to look and feel beautiful. It’s okay to stand out in a crowd. She will cease to be defined only by her job or her marital status, by the “hats” she wears in the world, and to reclaim her place as a woman in the world. She will re-discover her femininity and embrace it. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, she will find her way “home”.

It’s time to Conquer Our World. When a woman feels like she looks good, she feels good! She feels confident. She stands taller. She will stand up and speak out for others. She will stand up and speak out for herself. She is more likely to overcome her inhibitions because she realizes that just by wearing ritzy red shoes and shining in the crowd, she already has. She isn’t defined by the “box” she has put herself in, or allowed herself to be put in by others. In the words of Marilyn Monroe, “Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.”

What shade of red? “Bright reds – scarlet, pillar-box red, crimson or cherry – are very cheerful and youthful. There is certainly a red for everyone.” – Christian Dior

Did the addition of my red heels mean that I’m more willing to take risks, more willing to stand out in the crowd? Am I embracing a sassier side? Absolutely! A day is coming when I will trade in my red heels for something more comfortable and safe (since heels aren’t good for you). But that day is not today…and you can “bet your bottom dollar” that this Cinderella will wear red forever!

Wearing a Favourite: “To wear dreams on one’s feet is to begin to give reality to one’s dreams.” – Roger Vivier

To see more Weekly Writing Challenge Manifestos, click here.

*all quotes are from www.brainyquote.com

I’m In Love…

Tags

fashion, humour, shoes

I’m in love…with a pair of shiny, deep red, snakeskin “Mary Jane” pumps…on sale (30% off)…and they’re just a little. Too. Big.

It turns out that what I needed most to help soothe my weary bitter soul was the healing balm of shoe shopping! “Clothes never look any good… food just makes me fatter… shoes always fit.” (Maggie, In Her Shoes). Shoes always look good…even when they don’t fit. And these shoes looked good!

What I really wanted to find was a pair of basic black heels since mine look like they’ve been chewed by a dog…and we don’t own a dog. Instead, I started to lust after other pairs: the black pumps with gray snakeskin toes, the black and tan stilettos, the sparky blue pumps with a silver heel like a bullet…I was drawn to the shiny shoes in bubble-gum colours – I just wanted to eat them up!

I didn’t grow up with a sense of entitlement or a dying need to have the latest brand name. In fact, when buying clothing and shoes, practical and price were far more important than pretty. There was room for pretty…but it came at a price!

In the end, I did buy a pair of shoes… The sales guy kindly checked to make sure they were both the same size (obviously not Canadian sizing) and that one was left and one was right. I’m glad he checked. I may have 2 left feet when it comes to dancing, but I can’t imagine running through my day with 2 left feet. He was chatty (and cute) so I mentioned I haven’t really shoe-shopped in almost 10 years, to which he replied “sacrilege”. The shoes weren’t red, snakeskin, or even heels…they are practical and they were on sale…at 80% off the lowest price – which made them only $7.00! And every woman reading this just sent me a mental “high five”.

It felt so good, I headed to another shoe store, where I apparently entertained a fellow shopper. I didn’t realize anyone was listening in on my mindless mutterings until she burst into laughter and told me I was “delightful”. Evidently, I muttered things like “I don’t have a death wish” while examining black stilettos, “where are we? The jungle?” while stroking a pair of zebra pumps, or “I look like my mother” while admiring a pair of white heels… (my mother, by the way, has great taste!!)

I lusted after a glossy pair of gold heels but just couldn’t justify them (even at $30) but the salesgirl gets a gold star for trying. I told her I worked in a church office and they were a bit “over the top” for an old church lady. But then again, would the pastors really notice….?

“Cinderella is proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life.” – Author: Unknown

Downtown Bra Boutique

Tags

bras, corsets, family, fashion, humour, lingerie, shopping

Petula Clark sang “When you’re alone and life is making you lonely / You can always go downtown / When you’ve got worries, all the noise and the hurry / Seems to help, I know, downtown” That’s what my Mom and I did Friday afternoon – we went downtown. Now “downtown” in this small town doesn’t consist of much, but there were a couple of new stores that we wanted to try out, and there’s safety in numbers…

One of the stores was a bra boutique. It’s easier to forget your worries when you’re surrounded by pretty things…except if you’re a girl with ample curvatures…then it can be cause for big tears.  Most of the time, those pretty pieces cater toward smaller cup sizes, and if you have an ample rack, you’re options are limited to big beige “over the shoulder-boulder-holders” with enough elastic to bridle a horse.  Some of these devices of mass restriction include padded pillows to bolster God gave you, but I don’t want to put someone’s eye out. Forget femininity and comfort – it’s all about functionality! Department stores carry the common sizes – A to D…the higher the cup size, the larger the rib cage measurement. That means for my size (sorry – not sharing), the rib cage measurement starts 6″ too big. This helps explain the endless “years of tears” until I figured that all out!

It could have been worse – I could have been shopping for what was the height of sophistication, as advertized in the 1901 Delineator magazine!

 The original push-up bra (with before and after pics)!!

“The Air Bust Form gives grace, health and style to any lady.”

Armor Side Corsets “Never Breaks Down on the Sides” 

“The latest in Parisian fashion. Only $1.00.”

Henderson Straight Front Corset

“$1.00. Sizes 18 to 26. Available in white, black, and drab.”

Royal Worchester & Bonton

“Finest in the World, Straight Front, Gored (if you sat down, something might just gore you”)”

To make a long story short (in case there are still guys reading)…there were tears…of joy! I left that store with 3 new purchases. ALL of them were pretty. NONE of them were beige! Miracles do Happen!