I gave up bikini hunting after the weekend when my boobs refused to fit into anything resembling swimwear for the ninetieth time. Not even a mannequin wearing a bikini would fit me.
I had to laugh though when I attempted to squeeze myself into a modest, one piece snakeskin number. The bottom portion fit like a glove, but the top didn’t make it past my arm pits and I looked like a naked lady being swallowed by an anaconda. I lost.
But I felt like I could win by making my way to the lingerie department for a new bra. That was when I was approached by Elyse, a Certified Fitter in her late 50’s with a backwards breathy stutter and her very own business card.
She asked if I needed any help and even though deep down I knew I wanted to do it alone my mouth froze and my eyes jumped out of my face screaming, “YES, WE NEED HELP!”
Without warning she reached forward, grabbed a hold of both bra shoulder straps and tugged upward. And then she jiggled me right there in plain sight.
“So you’re about a size ____, right? Did you know these things weigh about five pounds each?”
I didn’t, but I desperately wanted to fire back a defensive, “YES” because I should know my own boob facts. Before I could make a sound she was already peering down my top to gather style ideas. I happened to be wearing my favorite bra that day which is being held together by one sad thread and was recently stained pink by fake blood. I hoped that would lead her in the right direction.
We made our way to the dressing room where she handed me a large pile of bras and as I went to hang them up she followed closely behind and shut the door behind her.
“Ahhhll rhiiiighhht, thaaake th-haat on-hun off and we-heee’ll get staaahhrted.”
You see, in the past they’ve always measured both band and cup size with tape, not their hands and eyes. I shrugged (mentally) and went about removing my shirt and bra. She handed me a new one and just as I began to slap that sucker on at warp speed she told me to slow down.
Side note: I feel like I’m constructing erotic fiction for my Angelfire website circa 1995 right now and I’m sorry. This actually happened.
I put both arms through the holes and she told me to bend over. I’m not kidding. And not for a complimentary scoliosis check. She got behind me, pulled the band tight, and snapped the closures. All the while we’re in front of those 180 degree dressing room mirrors where I can see this happening in nine dimensions of absolute horror.
She told me to stand up straight and thankfully let me reach my own hand in each cup to adjust. I think I probably would’ve drawn the line there. And then I would have pulled off her wig to uncover a man, baby.
I tried on six or seven bras and followed the same procedure with her each time like a dance. Put your arms out, bend over, stand up, squish-squish.
She said I reminded her of her big breasted daughter and in the end I grew quite fond of her. I also bought a relatively inexpensive, somewhat attractive, great fitting bra.
Let me know if you want her card.
um, no. no way this would ever happen to me. ever. why you let it get past the public jiggling, i don’t understand.
are you sure she said you reminded her of her daughter and not her lover?
i think you’re going to be needing counseling in the near future.
I think I might be experiencing Stockholm Syndrome.
I just had my umteenth mammogram and I feel your, um, pain. Especially the jiggling, squishing part. There is something so utterly (udderly, har,har) permanently damaging about seeing your boob flattened between two pieces of plexiglass while some person in a lab coat says cheerfully, ‘hold your breath while I zap you with xrays!’
eeek! the amount of neuroses that kind of situation would cause in me! good thing the bra fits though.
Beth – I think I would have felt more at ease if Elyse had a license to fondle in a lab coat.
Ollka – If the bra didn’t fit I’d press charges.
You outdid me, but it gave me a major flash back to Girl About Town days:
“Underneath It All”
http://ucneighbors.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_archive.html
I’ll admit that the title dragged me in here, but I’m glad I read it! This is another thing I’m glad men don’t have to do!
um, wow. I am barely comfortable being naked by myself, let alone naked with a stranger like that…
Ding Ding Ding!! Date idea! Thanks, Apple.
Emily – She works at Dillards if you need some more blog material.
Patrick – Thanks for being honest. The title was more of a warning for my father to read at his own risk.
Stephanie – I didn’t think I had it in me, either! I wonder how many other women have run screaming from Elyse.
Lucas – “You’re good.”
ugh lucas!
ps that reminded me when we went to victoria’s secret and the lady announced over the intercom to an employee upstairs on a matching Horrible Headset that the bra you were wearing was two cups sizes too small. i thought you were going to pass out.
Jesus, and her COLD SORE was oozing all the while.
It’s no secret now, Victoria!