The Brutality of Bra Shopping

                                                                                              

The last time I needed to buy a new bra, I decided to shop around for a miracle. Of course, I would have gladly settled for even the slightest gravitational pull.

In fifth grade, I was the first girl in my class to wear a bra. I didn't necessarily need one, but I had to wear something underneath a see-thru peasant blouse. When I wore it to school, a group of girls and boys followed me into the girl's bathroom for a closer look. I couldn't believe that the teacher didn't even seem to care. I finally got them to leave, and I never wore that peasant blouse again.  

When I was a preteen, I went for a fitting at a lingerie store. The older sales woman proceeded to throw in her two cents as well as her two hands for every bra that I tried on. I was pushed in, pulled out, tightened, clasped and groped. And she wasn't even on commission

Recently, I wandered into Victoria's Secret when a young girl offered to help me. I told her what I was looking for, and she suggested that I buy the same bra that she was wearing. I mentioned that I was slightly older than she was, and I needed something that essentially had super powers.

The little nineteen-year-old assured me that in all of her experience, she found this to be the perfect-fitting bra for women of all shapes and ages. Needless to say, my husband also enjoyed my delicious little treat from Victoria's Secret, a box of their finest mints, sealed with a kiss.