After being side-lined for several weeks with every virus and bacteria known to the medical establishment, my first order of business was to continue my quest for a well-fitting bra.
Once again, I made the long trip to the mall. Consumed by desperation and a bra with no support, I decided that maybe it was time to give that oh so popular lingerie store a try. I reluctantly stepped into the lion’s den, knowing full well that I was grasping at straws and that the entire experience would probably end up with me banging my head in frustration, off the steering wheel in my SUV.
I was immediately greeted by a saleswoman named Cricket who had a southern drawl so thick, it was like she was speaking another language. She was a bouncy, bubbly gal with a slight bouffant hairdo and eyebrows not unlike Uncle Leo from Seinfeld.
“Hi honey! How y’all doin’ today?” she asked me in a sing-songy voice reminiscent of Dolly Parton. Bad eyebrows aside, she immediately won me over with her effervescent personality. I quickly explained my ongoing bra struggle, to which she replied, “No worries, sweatheart. I’m sure we can fix you up right.”
Cricket gave me the once over and assured me she’d be right back. In the meantime, I decided to take a few minutes to browse the overwhelming bra selection on my own.
I was quickly out of my comfort zone. I grabbed a few different styles and scuttled off to the fitting room. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the aggravation that I knew was about to ensue.
I was in the midst of almost getting on the first bra, when I was interrupted by a loud knock outside the fitting room.
“How y’all doin’ in there, honey?” It was Cricket. “I gotcha some bras that ya might wanna give a try,” she said followed by some other words that were distorted by her thick accent.
“Alright,” I said, as I shoved my hand out the door, assuming she was going to hand me the bras. Instead, she brushed right by me and inserted herself into the middle of the fitting room, with me… naked from the waist up.
“Now, let me get a look at you,” she told me as she threw a measuring tape around my back.
“Stand up straight, honey, and raise your arms toward the ceiling,” Cricket directed.
I did as I was told.
“Oh, sweatheart, y’all got more boob than I realized. That jacket disguised them,” she told me, as she shook her head. She quickly disappeared from the fitting room, without saying another word. I was left standing there, half-naked and bewildered.
Sixty seconds later, she swept back in the room like a tornado, before I even had the chance to get on my old bra. I clasped my hands over my boobs again and stood facing Cricket, like a deer in headlights.
“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t have anything to fit them boobs in,” she informed me. “Looks like the Almighty got a little carried away in that department,” she blurted out, followed by booming laughter.
Her Southern charm made me feel as if we were old friends, and kept me from running out of the store and never looking back.
As I stood there, hands still clasped over my boobs, Cricket leaned in close and said, “Y’all need to get yourself over to Target. They got this wonderful bra line there, that I know y’all are gonna love.”
“See?” she said to me as she yanked out her bra strap from under her blouse. “It’s our little secret,” she whispered.
With that, she was out the door again. I threw on my clothes as fast as I could, thanked Cricket as I shot by her on my way out the door and to the parking lot.
“What the heck,” I thought to myself, “I’ll give it a shot.” I made my way back to the lingerie department in Target and there, like a shining beacon of light in the darkness, were the bras – exactly like Cricket said. Miraculously, I found my size and sprinted to the fitting room. And there, in the middle of Target, I found my bra soulmate. So much so, that I went home and ordered five more. Life is good.
4 thoughts on “BRAmageddon: The Sequel – A Tale of Two Boobs”
Wow…I so related to that. Ever since I got ‘them boobs’ ….age age 9….I’ve hated them. From my first bra fitting with Mum and a pushy sales assistant making discouraging
‘surprised’ sighs, mmmmms and ahhhhs, I’ve shunned any assistants pushing their way into my fitting room of shame. Now I shop at a bra shop called “Big Girls Don’t Cry ( Anymore). And it’s true…I don’t. ..because their catalogue is full of sexy, supportive and perfect bras for the voluptuously endowed glamazonian woman!
OMG… “fitting room of shame.” I think I just laughed my boobs off!!
Thanks for my evening entertainment! This was a solid story told by solid writer and kept me chuckling all the way through. Who doesn’t love Target?!?
Thanks so much for your kind comments! I LOVE Target. Thank goodness it’s almost an hour away from me because I can definitely get in trouble in that store.