When you walk into Mountain Equipment Co-op, you never want to admit to them that you cant tell the difference between a kayak paddle and a canoe paddle.
When you go to a hair dresser, you do not want to admit to them that sometimes you wash your hair with soap and that you do not even own a hair brush.
When you go to lululemon, you do not want to admit to them that you do not wear their apparel to your yoga classes, and that you only own one thong that you only wear on laundry day (which means you will only wear their pants on laundry day or dread the social crisis of panty lines), or that you are actually not going to purchase anything in the store because the bright lights make you dizzy.
And when you go into a bra-fitting store, you do not admit that you only own one bra, it doesn’t even fit (and you know that), and you have refused to go bra shopping because you know what an excruciating ordeal it is to actually find one that fits and doesn’t make you feel like a sixty-year-old who is just looking for something comfortable.
Now why bother going to a special bra-fitting store?
I was convinced by a former housemate who told me that 90% of women wear bras that do not fit them, and that when you have a bra that does fit, it feels as though someone is holding onto your breasts all the time. Hmm...thats nice.
“Well..I have a pretty good bra,” I tell her. “It feels pretty good...i think i have a perfect fitting bra.”
“I bet you don’t,” she responds.
“Well, how is it supposed to fit?”
“It is supposed to fit like this (insert extremely long explanation of how a bra is supposed to fit here)”
“Yeah, my bra totally fits perfectly!”
“I don’t believe you. Let me see.” She then grabbed my shirt and looked down it. i stood there uncomfortably as she compromised, “hmmm...i guess it is not so bad. But when you are in Toronto, you should go get fitted...that is where i got fitted.”
So a month later I moved to Toronto and my perfect fitting bra fell apart because it was about 7 years old (also never admit the age of your bra to a bra-fitting specialist or your girly friends...apparently it is gross or weird or smthg..i dont know). Fortunately for me I had one other bra at the time. Unfortunately for me, that bra was black (making it particularly awkward under all of the white shirts I own) and it did not fit (making it particularly awkward under everything else I own). I finally went to the bra fitting store. I was mentally prepared for the ordeal and I set aside an entire morning.
Now, for those of you who have never been to a specialty bra store, let me set the stage. The cheapest bra you will find is about 60$ and the most expensive bra is probably more expensive than a wedding dress. The people who work there know a lot about bras. EVERYTING! They will speak to you as if they themselves follow bra-ness as a religion...and i bet they don’t! They told me to pack my bra in a Tupperware when i am travelling. Good idea to maintain the bra’s lifespan...but seriously, how practical is that? Also, the people who GO to these bra fitting stores are not usually common proletariat like myself. I showed up wearing sweats...I went shopping in sweats! That is just not done. If you are going to walk into a small, specialty boutique, you must dress as if you belong in a small, specialty boutique. I do not know how to best communicate my sentiments to this social construction...other than, FUCK YOU!
The first time i went to this bra-fitting store, I went to get fitted and to try on a bunch of bras so that i could really understand how a bra is supposed to fit. I spent about an hour and a half trying on bras, and i left without buying a single one because they were all way too expensive. I cannot afford to spend that much on my boobs. I planned on learning everything i could abour perfect bra-fitting, and then going to La Senza (the proletariat/people´s bra shop) and buy a cheap one that fits. I would turn to the staff and say let them no that after so graciously spending 90 minutes of their day with me (working on commission), I appreciate it.
(As if someone´s “appreciation” is more satisfaction than a larger number on your pay check)
...for those of you who have never worked on commission....ITS NOT!
Anywhoo..since it had been a few months since my last bra fitting, i felt that my body had changed a little and that i may be a different size....
So i went to this bra store for the second time. Again, wearing sweats.
“Have you been here before?” she kindly asks me—even though she is thinking (duh, she has never been here before...i bet she doesn’t know the difference between padding and push-up! Ugh. And she is wearing sweats.)
“Yes.”
“you HAVE!?”
“Yes. But you are not supposed to question that...you are supposed to say, ‘okay, let me pull up your file.’” (yes...they keep a file on you. They know your size, which bras you purchased/liked, or which bras you put on your “wish list” ..it is a weird sort of bra-registry).
Wait...i wasn’t that snarky...
“Okay...do you have a file?”
“Yes”
“You DO?” I wonder why she was so surprised...it was as if i didn’t have boobs or something...? “Okay...what is your last name?” I told her my last name and she proceeded to look through their database of clients. They couldn’t find me....i totally knew they would delete my file after they found out i wasn’t gonna buy any of their overpriced bras.
So we did the fitting all...over...again.....
Ugh. I jumped into a fitting room and the lady followed me in with a tape measure and asked me to take off my shirt. I don’t understand why i willingly put myself in these vulnerable situations.
“You are a 32D”
“What!?”
“That is right..i will go find a bra that fits....” Please note that these bra shops are not your typical lingerie store. They are more like bra museums, or bra archives. There are only a select number of bras on display. The rest are in their basement/magical warehouse of bras. They bring YOU what they think you want/will be comfortable in.
“nonono..hold on....are you sure you measured MY boobs...i mean...i know i felt the measuring tape...but i don’t think that is right.”
“Umm...yeah it is.”
“But that wasn’t my size last time.”
“Your breasts and bodies are always changing.” Oh....so THAT is what puberty is all about... She continues, “Was that a long time ago?”
“No.”
“Well...how about I bring you some bras and you can try them on.”
“Sure. But i would prefer if you brought me a bra that fit! Considering you have all the control over which bras I actually get to try on.” I felt even more vulnerable. She had the future of my breasts in her hand...if only i had access to the depths of the bra basement!
The first bra she brings...
“This should fit.”
Should it? Give me access to your bra basement, bitch!
After bringing me an array of bras, we finally found a suitable bra that fit. Yay!
“Yay! Thank you very much. I appreciate (key word that indicates you are not actually going to buy the $300 bra in your hand because it is larger than your last pay check) your help!” I held the holy bra in my hand and folded it up how i usually fold my bra, efficiently and neatly as she asks if i know how to take care of my bras.
“Now....” i sensed the tension in her voice, “you never want to fold your bra that way.” Aaaa...i just performed bra-sacrilege! She gently took the bra from me as if i had proven that i was no longer worthy. “And I assume that you only hand wash your bras...”
Why would you assume that? Just simply because i walked in here? Eff no...i shove my bra in the washing machine like the rest of them....but i nodded my head kindly to make up for my previous wrong-doing of bra folding. She then continued to talk about bra-care and i continued to nod until i realized that i was actually thinking about how if i was Kelso from that 70's show, I would also cheat on Jackie...what a bitch! Oh right....drying my bra properly.
“So, now that we have found you a strapless, did you say you need an everyday bra?”
Oh dear lord..
We continued to talk about bras, and the number of ghasps that came from her mouth almost shocked me.
Even though I knew I should never have told her these things, in our coversation the following bra-no-nos came out:
-i do not hand wash my bras
-i will probably not hand wash the bra i buy today
-i only own one bra
-now that i have a bra that fits, i will probably stop wearing it and no longer wear my old bra that does not fit (bra-fitters truly believe you need many bras so that you can wear one bra while you tend to all the others....one bra is a definitely grounds for exhile)
-i wasn’t listening to any of the bra-care instructions
She carried the bra over to the counter, dissapointed as to the future of the bra she held. She looked at me with discontent, "have a great day and i hope you enjoy your bra." She then walked away closing her eyes as if she were trying to hold back her emotions...
I held my head down in shame behind her.
