Thursday, July 9, 2009

SHOPPING FOR THE LADIES

1960's magazine ad "I dreamed I posed for a Fashion Ad in my maidenform bra."
My last post would have you thinking I love to shop. Quite the opposite. That poetry was the product of a long-ago writing class. The first one was an attempt at a poem with a double meaning. I posted them to stall until my brain recovered from the weekend with house full of people I love. Anyway, to me shopping is a chore. I purchase things such as clothing only when necessary and when alone. I refuse to subject others, especially guys, to waiting in an uncomfortable chair outside a store dressing room, thumbing through a worn issue of Is Martha Stewart Living? while I stand in the stall and stare at my sorry self in a mirror. The most dreaded item on my clothing list is a brassiere. Because I hate this shopping task with passion, I have rules about the job that help ease the misery. • Buy quality. I don’t want to do this any more often than necessary. • Because quality is expensive buy only two—one to wear and one to wash. • Keep the old ones until certain the new ones won’t try to kill me (like the underwire one that tried to stab me while I was standing in line at the bank; or the one with four hooks that tried to take a bite out of my back; or the other underwire one that almost got me strip-searched at airport security). I don’t wear underwires any more. • Always try them on. Even if, by some miracle, I find the same brand and size when I return two or three years after the last purchase—there is no guarantee they will still fit the same. Things change. • Since there are always a thousand kinds to choose from; take as many varieties of the estimated size into the dressing room as possible at once. Bribe the sentry at the door if necessary. I don’t want to expose my saggy white ladies to store air conditioning in a public place any more often than necessary. Of course this is where a shopping buddy would be helpful. But I am too inhibited to expect someone else to assist, especially with this one. • When a bra is finally selected, have a second choice since there will only be one of that kind and size in the store. • Take care of those objects of torture. Even though I would be sold for hamburger if I were a dairy cow, I still need something to stop the flapping. So keep the bras clean and in some state of repair until, alas, the purchase of new ones becomes necessary.
1960's magazine ad, "I dreamed I went to blazes in my maidenform bra."

6 comments:

Woman in a Window said...

HATE to have to shop for bras. Do it lumpingly by catlogue and send more back than I keep. Much like you, two good ones at a time. Derg! Hate it. AND I lament the money.

This should be a government sponsored program. It is for the health of my nation (and yours) for us to be comfortably fitted.

Flea said...

I probably like shopping as much as you do. And bras - AAAAHHHH! Hate it. I need a new one, but haven't gotten the gumption to shop yet. Can't live without an underwire. But then, being a double F will do that.

Janie said...

You sound a lot like me when I absolutely am forced to shop for clothes, especially bras. I've been lucky the last few times and was able to order the same thing without the time-wasting, humiliating experience.

jeanie said...

I have a 3 bra rule - my clothes don't always leave the line the day they are hung - and it is awful...

Jeannelle said...

Oh, Leenie....superb post about shopping for that dreaded undergarment. "Things change"....I like that one! And, your line about being sold for hamburger.....oh, my. Watch out, McDonald's here all us old ladies come!

Thankfully, my husband never accompanies me on shopping trips, either. I watch those couples like you described and can't figure out how they can stand to do that. Love the "Is Martha Living" magazine, too! Very clever post!

Linda Sue said...

I haven't shoped or worn a bra for YEARS! Just those sport squishers- or body suits from Fred meyer- seem to do the trick- my boobage is minimal so I can get away with it.
Underwire horror stories to be sure- who invented those I wonder- some guy no doubt...