They are real and they are fantastic!

Two weeks ago I embarked on a vacation that would begin locally and then include a trip to a place I like to call Kevin Stilley Country (my absence from posting any new entries would be due to the return from this vacation and the usual need to play "catch up").

I debated telling this story since I wasn't sure if it would be of any interest to a large majority of my readers (or perhaps the large majority of my readers would be interested which just kind of creeps me out...no offense) but since I enjoy sharing my learning experiences, I will tell it.

On my first full day of vacation, I decided to go to a small town that is about half an hourish away to get properly fitted for a bra. After wearing one for the past 23 or so years, I felt that I knew what size I should get but after watching all of these makeover and Oprah shows that kept stressing the importance of the perfect fitting undergarments (and a recent underwire injury to one of them that was never quite healing), I became curious to know how far off I actually was, if at all. I didn't want to go to some place like Macy's and be measured by some part time worker who is otherwise busy with her college classes. I wanted someone like a little old lady with a Russian accent that knew all there was to know about bras from the old country and got her green card here because of this knowledge. I didn't quite get that but Kendra, the rather young female that worked with me at this specialty store, did know quite a lot.

I walk into this place shortly after they opened, figuring all they would do would be to measure me and I would get this over with and shortly be on to something fun like shopping at the quite little knickknack shops this town has. I was wrong. It was a busy morning so I was able to get the last dressing room. Kendra told me to take my shirt off and she would be in to measure me. Once she did, she said she would go back out and find one for me to try. This happened four times. Each time she would come in and check the fit (and once rearranged the girls herself) before she deemed one of them to be a perfect fit for me. By this time, I was in way over my head and decided to just go with the flow in the hopes that this hell would soon be over.

To be honest, I did learn a lot about such things as how a proper fit should look/feel and the most interesting bit of info: when putting on a bra, the girls need to be manhandled after, specifically lifted up and pushed inward after the bra is in place. I felt bad that after all these years, I just left them as they were. While I was in the midst of all this, I did get enjoyment out of listening to the women in the other 4 dressing rooms. I think the woman next to me was about 5 feet tall and 80 years old (I know this because I was the "lucky" one who had the dressing room with the door to the bathroom so I had to step out when grandma needed to use it) and the workers had to figure out a contraption to help her put on her bra easier (a possible engineering idea for our dear Ed, perhaps) and also, there was a lot of hub bub about an 'Oprah' bra. I never did find out exactly what an Oprah bra was but I doubted I could afford it although the one I did buy was $58. Worth every penny.

(Sidenote: The title is a quote from Seinfeld. Jerry date's a girl with amazing breasts that makes them all wonder if they are real. Hilarity ensues (as usual) and his girlfriend says the above line to him after she has broken up with him and as she walks out of his apartment all without Jerry having experienced them firsthand.)


Coming up: My visit to Kevin Stilley country!