My story continued as I drove downtown, last week, with the lofty goal of securing a parking space within two blocks of my final destination. Luckily, I scored a spot directly in front of the State House, with it's hushed tones of culture and civility. As I glanced out the windshield to find the nearest parking kiosk, I smiled at the Creche scene. It looked so peaceful with the usual characters, cast in a warm light and safely protected by chicken wire.
As I wiped the tear from my eye, I got out of the car and looked around for the store front in question. Ah yes, right across the street: "Professional Bra Fitters" and I had an appointment. Grabbing my purse, and money to pay for parking, using our city's brand new Parking Kiosks, I headed out. As I approached the kiosk, I saw a man standing there. He was shuffling his hands in his pockets, repeatedly looking at the new machine with the big, blue "P" on it...
"Go ahead of me" he said. "I've forgotten money for parking and I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do". Normally, but particularly being a hand full of days after Christmas, you might think I'd automatically forage in my pockets to find the man some change and, normally, you'd be right. Not today though... Not me. Today, I happened to be on a mission so I thanked him kindly, put my money in and moved on. There may be some regret in there somewhere but I'll have to get back to that later. Right now, the concern was navigation of the cocoa colored slush standing between me and the other side of the street.
Upon opening the door to the Professional Bra Fitters, I was accosted by two different things at the same time.
First, the door chimed. 'Really?' I thought. 'Why would they draw attention to me like that? I mean, the State House is right across the Street for God sake! What if someone hears?'
Second, bras and underwear.
Everywhere.
It was on tables, clothing racks, chairs and walls. It was on mannequins who, by the way, are not built like they used to be. VERY intimidating. 'Well' I thought as I reached my hand inside the shoulder of my shirt to yank my bra strap back up where it belonged, 'Nothing to do but take a deep breath and step forward'.
After being greeted by the professionals, it was time to get down to business. They explained what it was they do and why it's so important. One woman stated she'd be helping me today but that the other woman would be checking on everything since woman #1 was "still in training". Wait for it....
'ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I HAVE A TRAINING BRA FITTER?' Was it me, or was the room starting to spin? 'Deep breaths, Pam, deep breaths. You can do this and, clearly, for them to have hired her, she must know more than you do even if your bra is older than she is...'
"Step in here" she said as she held open one of two curtains covering the dressing room directly next to the sales counter. "Are you wearing a bra?"
Was she kidding?
"I am. I wore a 'geriatric' one because it just doesn't get out much anymore." She giggled politely and said "Okay, just pop your shirt off but leave the bra on and I'll be right back in to take a measurement".
Pop?
Do you know there are no chairs in those rooms? After removing my shirt, I just stood there in my bra and pants.....six feet away from the sales counter.....concealed by nothing but a couple of curtains. Every time that door chimed I instinctively looked for a place to hide, only to be faced by myself in the full length mirror. They did have a couple of interesting things to read on the wall. One was a cartoon depicting a woman using an anti-gravity machine in conjunction with a hand held mirror so she could get a more pleasing view. I don't remember, for sure, but I might have smiled briefly just before the associate returned with tape measure in hand. We got a measurement and the fitting began.
At first, she explained how they do initial fittings with a certain bra because they know it runs true to size. Once that was done, she would bring in "a few different styles" for me to try on and that's when "the real fun begins", she promised.
After determining proper size, she also taught me the proper way to put on a bra. So while she was out gathering a 'few different styles', I reflected on lessons learned thus far and it went something like this:
One - Use the MIDDLE set of hooks when securing a bra. She couldn't really tell me 'why' which only caused me to look more and more suspiciously at this Training Bra Fitter.
Two - Once the bra is on, pull it down in the back. Now, if I hadn't learned this trick years ago, on my own, chances are good the back of my bras would all have ended up somewhere around my neck but she's young and doesn't know, first hand, of gravity. I smiled knowingly and we moved on.
Three - Stick your hand inside the cup, lift with that hand and yank the front of the bra up with the other. It literally took me minutes to figure this one out and I desperately wished my husband was with me to provide his expertise.
Four - Pull it down in the back again. Duh...
In the, approximately, two minutes it took me for that review, she had enough time to gather and return with THIRTY bras. I'm not kidding - I was immediately overwhelmed.
"You know" I said staring 'deer caught in the headlights' at the masses, "I just had surgery a couple of weeks ago and I've already broken a sweat what with the parking kiosk, the navigation of the slush and then the fitting..."
"Isn't it great?!" She bubbled. "There are so many different styles! Have fun!!!"
After, looking myself in the mirror, I blew an errant curl off my forehead and thought 'Why not?' where upon I dug in with bra number one.
Tried one - nope. Next one - I can see things through this one that I didn't even know were there - no way. Third - Is she kidding me? I think I have this pattern in bed sheets. Fourth - I could have stored things like car keys and my wallet in that bad boy. Time to be a little more discerning... Mind you, approximately every 48 seconds, she would return to give me a yank down in the back, a lift up in the front and an adjustment to the straps. This is where her "professional" coworker joined in the fun to do the same thing. How do you make eye contact with someone who does that?
Finally, I found a couple of styles that fit well, looked nice under my shirt and passed muster with both the training and professional bra fitters. I put my old, comfortable bra back on (practicing my new techniques), got fully dressed and moved confidently to the sales counter. 'Ha! I know how to wear a bra and you don't' my smug smile seemed to say to the newest person in the store. I could tell she was the newest because she was standing there, dumbfounded, staring at the mannequin in the front of the boutique.
Having finished with the business at hand, I took a casual look around the counter. It turns out there's a lot more to a Professional Bra Fitter boutique than I thought. My eyes skipped over everything from peel-and-stick enhancements, to bra liners to pasties. Then, I hit the best item I would see all day, nay, all year. The item that gives me hope, where there previously was none, for the air quality in my home when my husband is home. Something called a "flatulence deodorizer filter". As God is my witness, I swear they have them. With an equal amount of honesty, I'll tell you I did glance at the Training Bra Fitter but, after a moment's hesitation of wanting to be very certain, I asked for the Professional. After all, this was serious.
She appeared from the back room, with a smile on her face, when I held up one of the filters and asked "Can I buy these in bulk?" Being a "professional", her smile dimmed only slightly as she told me they could be purchased in boxes of five. I made a mental note for next year's stocking stuffers.
In conclusion, I thanked both associates for their time, turned to leave and was faced with the same mannequin I'd seen on the way in the store. 'Funny' I thought. 'She's not nearly as intimidating now...'
Upon leaving the boutique, I simply wondered her size.
Love it! I have seen the establishment but chickened out and had someone trained at JC Penney's fit me :)
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