Happy National Bra Shopping with Mom Day!
It happens every year. You know, the day every daughter is required to leave home with her mother, and begin the journey to a better life*. On this journey you are only to bring yourself, your wallet (just in case you pick a better life* your mother can't afford), a semi-plain shirt to see what your new life* will look like underneath, and finally, the most important thing of all? Patience. So. much. patience. Because when seeking out a new life* in the company of your mother, you will be tested.
She will test you with questions like:
Can I sit inside the fitting room?
Why would anyone spend $78 on this?
Don't you already have this?
Don't you already have this?
No, I know, it's not a question. It is, however, a task you will be required to complete many times on this journey.
Once you reach the halfway point of your journey, it's now time to test how each new life* works for you. The room in which you decide will be the size of a large cardboard box, and your mother WILL sit on the giant chair that takes up more than half of the space. You don't have a choice in this matter.
For some of you, this will also be the moment you reveal to your mother you've gotten a tattoo during your sophomore year of college. She will think you're confessing something much worse like pregnancy, or dating a boy who isn't Jewish, so when she finds out it's a tattoo, she will be relieved.
After 20 minutes of showing your mother what your adult breasts look like, she will comment on how you have the same adult breasts. It will be very uncomfortable and you will want to disagree, even though it's true. You will quickly decide on the 2-3 new lives* that fit the most "fine" and look the most "young" and "good enough" for the price. You promise to wash these new ones, but deep inside you know it's not true.
You will hesitate at the register, wondering if this will be the day your mom decides (without telling you) that it's your turn to pay for new...lives*...because you are 27 years old, paying your own rent in a $1000 box you chose with your own brain and eyes.
Turns out...it is that day.
Your mom almost decides to pay, but wanders away towards a sale rack of fuzzy socks she'll talk about for a couple days, but never buy. You wonder for a brief moment if you even need a new life*. After all, they were a trick created by men in the 1930's to sell more diamonds, right? RIGHT? Of course they were. No one can even tell you have breasts under the big sweaters and flannels you wear anyway! There's only 3 people who know what's under there and they are ALL in this room. You, your mother, and the woman who works at the store. The only reason she knows is because you're in there and if you're about to buy $280 in new b-
"Miss, how will you be paying today?"
You look to your mom who is still "interested" in the $5 sock rack. She doesn't need socks.
"CREDIT", you accidentally scream at her.
It is finished. You clutch the delicate paper bag containing your new $280 lives* and follow your mother out of the store. She advises you to keep the receipt just in case you gain weight. Because you know, women in our family gain weight in the breasts. You roll your eyes. You know this to be true.
Your mother will find a bathroom to use, even if there's a flashing sign the size of a building that says BATHROOM FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY.
You return to the home you did or did not grow up in, fall asleep on the couch, get 11 hours of sleep that night, and then it's back to the city in the morning.
You will forget to try your new life* for 2 days.
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