To be fair Caroline has been asking me to go bra shopping for months. But I HATE bra shopping and I was already imagining what bra shopping would be like with my outspoken, lack of filter, 14 year old. (Yes I'm a wimp; last time she needed new bras I sent her with SK and my credit card--IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT!!!) Perhaps I should have repeated that decision....
We walked into Target (Target on a Saturday--first mistake). I herded them past the bathing suits and to the sports bra section. SK seemed to be okay on her own so I said, "Caroline let's go look at the regular bras. You only need one sports bra. You have some that will work." As we rounded the corner I quietly (emphasis on quietly) said, "We need to find a couple and go try them on because different styles fit differently." "TRY THEM ON?!?!?! I'M NOT TRYING THEM ON--THAT'S LIKE SHARING BOOBS WITH SOMEONE." What does that even mean? I didn't dare ask--instead I tried to reason with her--"Mama, you have lost your mind if you think I'm going to put my naked boobs on a bra that someone else has put on their naked boobs." (I did not point out that any bra we bought could very well have been tried on by someone else....)
I looked up--relief flooded over me--back up troops were heading towards me. Desi to the rescue. I didn't even care that she began the conversation with , "I could hear y'all clear across the store." "Desi," I pleaded with my eyes and tried to sound authoritative with my voice, "Don't you have to try on bras before you buy them." Desi, "I don't." Are you kidding me?!?!? Did she miss my pleading eyes? "But, but but," I sputtered, "What if you get them home and they don't fit?" "You just have to buy new ones." says the single woman with NO CHILDREN TO EDUCATE. "We're not doing that," I said as I tried to regain my maternal control (that I think I lost years ago). Meanwhile Caroline is smiling sweetly at Desi.
Apparently Desi noticed my distress because she said, "Well you should try them on but you could do it over your clothes." (Those words would come back to haunt us.) I turned to Caroline who was on my right while Desi remained on my left--positioning that would become important, and said, "I think you're probably a 38 C; why don't you try to find some." Caroline, "Why do you think that?" "Well because I'm a B and..." I was cut off by loud uncontrollable laughter--seriously it was like a surround sound of humiliation--Desi, "Are you kidding me? You want to be a B." Caroline trying to speak through her hysteria, "You're a wanna be B." "Just go find some bras." (now that's a good come back...)
Just as Caroline was returning with a couple of choices, SK reappeared. After hugging Desi, she looked at Caroline--"Who are you? You cannot get that color--that is totally trashy." (I think what she said was a little bit different but even I have some limits and would rather not repeat it...) "Come on," she said, "I'll help you." Flooded with relief that she was taking over I let the language go...
They returned with a few choices. "Caroline, I am not buying bras without you trying them on. It's my money." (Yep, I desperately pulled out the only card I have--the wallet) "Fine," she said, "I'll try them on." I momentarily looked down--my head snapped up when I heard Desi screech, "She's trying them on right here. Caroline, that's what old ladies do." (Or Caroline I thought--told you those words of Desi's would come back to haunt us) We finally settled on two and I sent her to find a sports bra. "I'll see you tonight," I said to Desi, "And make sure you have plenty to drink--I may need to start now."
I decided to let Caroline pick out her own sports bra; seriously, I needed a break. How bad could it be? SK and I started walking off to finish our list--as we were walking she says, "Aren't these the ugliest bras you've ever seen?" "Why didn't you get different colors?" I naively asked her. "They don't make this size in good colors--this is the size old ladies wear and they don't care what they look like--or nursing mothers who are just going to throw them out anyway, or me." I had to stop pushing the cart I was laughing so uncontrollably.."tell me I'm lying--you know it's true." (Did I mention NONE of us speak in hushed tones EVER!!)
We kept walking and ran into just about everyone in the world we knew (and who now probably know all of our bra sizes). Really wish I had run into one precious young man earlier--his first words to me, "Mother Katherine you all are too loud." Amen love, amen. His mother tried to tell him that wasn't nice to say. "But you are so right," I told him thinking "I really wish we'd run into you about 30 minutes ago..."
I'd like to say that ended my humiliating shopping trip to Target, but alas I'd be lying...next time I'm just sending the credit card. And we still have shoes to buy....
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