Let's Here It For The Girls!

* What you are about to read may not appeal to all readers...particularly the male gender. Consider yourself warned and then read at your own risk.

Today I did something that I realized in the middle of doing I had never done before. I got fitted for a bra. I can remember thinking I had done this before one time but after today I learned that I had indeed not been fitted at all.

I've worn bras for most of my life and been just fine...then I got pregnant and that was a game changer. Of course, that was followed by breast feeding which, shall we say, increased the girls (and from here on out I will refer to these bodily parts which bras are designed to hold up as "the girls" so as to not further offend anyone and because there are only so many times one can type the word breast before it gets awkward).

I would also like to inform those who are not mothers that nursing bras are from the devil. They are not pretty, they are not supportive, they are purely functional...at best and I'm being as nice as I can to the makers of these contraptions. They are so unattractive that I tried using my normal bras as nursing bras, which in turn stretched these bras out so that they began to resemble the hideous nursing alternatives. Oh the joys of being a woman.

I did this four times. Then...I stopped breastfeeding. At this point the girls rebelled from overuse and retreated. I mean it. They ran for the hills, leaving me with, well, not even hills to hold up. This called for my first "bra fitting" during which some young teenager (okay, I may be slightly exaggerating here) tried to measure me without touching me and told me I was a size that I hadn't been in since I had my first bra. She was as perky in her demeanor as her unused girls were. I resisted the urge to slap her for accusing me of such a size as well as yelling, "You think you're so smart? You try having four kids, breastfeeding them and see where your girls end up!"

Instead I purchased the tiny bra and sulked out of the store. I may have also made a stop at Cinnabon to console the loss of these before largely unappreciated family members fearing they were gone forever. Sigh.

I mentioned my loss to a friend one time and she consoled me by telling me not to worry. The girls will be back, she promised. I clung to those words and eagerly awaited their return. And waited, and waited...and waited.

At my last doctor's appointment, I asked him about the likelihood of their return, relaying my friend's promise to me. As the words were coming out of my mouth, I could see the nurse behind him sadly shaking her head to negate the hope I had left. I also resisted the urge to slap her. I have loads of self-control.

My doctor mentioned that when his patients come in with this problem, he will often send them to the plastic surgeon for help. "You don't need that," he assured me. "You are self-confident and in shape and you'll do just fine the way you are." He was very believable so I did not need to stop at the Cinnabon this time.

I moved on with my life and forgave the girls for abandoning me. Who could blame them? I had worked them hard and given them little if any attention over the years, placing them in such homes that I am ashamed to say, sometimes came from the likes of the Target clearance rack. Oh, if I had to do it over again, I may have taken better care.

Over the past few months though, I have noticed that the girls were sneaking back into view. I did not make a big deal or throw a party for fear of scaring them off for good. No, I was going to let them come back on their own terms and give them a heartfelt thank you when the time was right.

However, as they emerged on the scene, they began to let me know that if they were going to come back and stay this time, they were not going to put up with being ignored. They began a mutiny against the home I had welcomed them back to because it was, well, the same home they had been in when they left.

They tried to throw it off themselves by causing my straps to constantly fall down so that I was adjusting my bra with every move. This however, was ineffective so they began to try to escape. Although this was better than the aforementioned retreat, it was certainly not convenient to have them run away every time I leaned over. Try as I may, the bras of days past, were not going to cut it for the new and improved girls. These girls are true divas. They wanted it their way and they wanted it now.

I began to seek the advice of friends. This is something else that had never occurred to me. Seriously, who buys a house without first speaking to someone wise in these matters? This, I had learned over time, is a serious issue in need of sound advice. Also, I finally made the decision that it was worth investing in something that really worked. You know? Build your house upon a firm foundation and all.

Today I humbly went to seek the advice of an expert. I told her of my saga and begged her to help me. She stood and patiently let me get it all out...and take it all off. She took one look at the girls' current home and shook her head. "Oh my!" she gasped loud enough for the whole store to hear. "Honey, you are in the wrong size. I understand why you've been having such problems," she consoled me as she pulled out her trusty tape measure and began to size me up in a way that made me certain she knew what she was doing.

"What size is this?" she asked of my nicest home. I told her and she shook her head.

"Darlin' you're measuring____".  I can not reveal the details of this part of the story. Some things are still sacred you know. Suffice it to say that my current band was four inches too big and my cup four sizes too small.

I kid you not when I say I nearly passed out when she gave me the news of my true size. This time I had no urge to slap the messenger but I did have to slap myself to bring me back from my stupor. "Seriously? No WAY!" I let fly loud enough for the next store over to hear.

"I'll be right back," she said with sheer determination to get my girls precisely what they needed.

I stood and looked at myself in the mirror dumbfounded. Then, because I knew he would be the one person completely thrilled with my new discovery, I sent Nelson a text.

She came back with several new homes for me to examine. "Okay, let's try one on."

She helped me fasten it in the back as I admired this new abode. I had determined that with my new, ahem, larger size, I would be destined to a very perfunctory looking place for my girls to rest. I was wrong. This place seemed to be the perfect combination of beauty and support. I was still gazing at how much happier the girls looked in this new home when my assistant shoved her hand in it and pulled the girls to attention. Don't say I didn't warn you.

For anyone else this might be off-putting, but for me, sorely in need of help and guidance to care for these long neglected girls, it was a means to an end. "You have to pull them into place like so," she said as she did just that.”See how much better that is?"

She was so right and I was so grateful that this fitting had come after I had delivered four children. There's not much that bothers you about things like this after you've given birth in front of a crowd of people.

The session went on from there as she helped me into several different homes. She would get me adjusted everywhere and make me put my shirt back on to see the difference. Oh - my - gosh - the difference!

In those few moments in that little dressing room with that woman who showed me the way, I had been completely converted. Before I had always (well, except when I was a newly wed) felt it was unnecessary to spend a fortune on something most people never see. What I discovered through this woman's wisdom and seeing it for myself, was that a firm foundation makes everything look better. No one sees it, and yet, EVERYONE does and when it's not working, it's not pretty.

I walked out of the store with new homes in hand. I texted my friend who had told me about this wonderful fitting experience. "I'm walking out of ____ and just wanted you to know that my world has been changed...and also my wallet!"

I was serious. It was no small price to purchase the homes of their dreams, but I had never been so happy to spend such a chunk of change. I had seen the light and realized it's worth investing in something I use every single day. I witnessed first hand how when you build your home upon a firm foundation, good things happen.

Now I could wrap this around a spiritual experience because there are several great life lessons in this story, but honestly I want to tell you women out there that if I had the money, I would take each of you to this store, get you fitted and buy a new home for your girls too. That's how much I loved this.

 It is true what they say, some things are worth the investment and today I found one of them.