I tell my mother I finally found a bra that fit AND was comfortable. I lift up my shirt and show it to her. I have three sisters and we do this all the time in my family. We like to think we're shocking my father, but he he just rolls his eyes and says, "Pft."
"How much?" my mother asks.
"Seventy-six dollars," I say.
"For how many?" my father asks.
My mother does a spit take worthy of Danny Thomas. "Seventy-six DOLLARS!" she says.
"It's really comfortable."
"It damn well better be!"
"It's a Chantelle bra," I say. "It's French."
"I buy my bras at Marshall's for nine dollars," my mother says.
"Those are made in China."
"So what? I wouldn't pay $76 for a bra, I don't care where it comes from."
"Thats what I said until I tried it on," I say.
"Tried it on where?"
Another spit take. "What were you doing in NORDstroms?" She says it like I was dancing naked at Buckingham Palace.
"I was shopping for a dress, and the saleswoman suggested I have a bra fitting."
"What business was it of hers?"
I don't have a good answer to this.
"If a saleswoman suggested to me that I have a bra fitting, I would have given her the stink eye," she says, then demonstrates. It's a pretty stinky eye.
"She escorted me to the lingerie department and introduced me to Liz," I say.
"The bra-fitting lady."
"Nice gig," my father says."Do they have any openings in that department?"
My mother says, "Does that bra make you look like you're sixteen?"
"Nothing could do that," I say.
"Then what good is it?"
She has a point. Sort of. "Liz told me I was the wearing the wrong size," I say. "And she told me my straps weren't tight enough. I wasn't getting enough lift."
"For $76, I should think they'd be under your chin."
"No, they're where they're supposed to be."
"Yeah, but $76! I thought I raised you better than that."
My mother is the original Second-Hand Rose. I bought my clothes in thrift stores until I was 40 years old.
"I'll get the rest of them on eBay," I say.
"That's my girl." She looks at the river. It's a beautiful fall day. "I wish I'd had my operation earlier," she says.
My mother had a breast reduction in her mid-70's, about ten years ago. She often says she wishes she had done it earlier.
"Then again, I never had a $76 bra."
I nod. "It might have saved you some money."
"Nah," she says. "I like my B-cups." She lifts up her shirt and shows me. My father rolls his eyes and says, "Pft."