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Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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10:02 a.m. - 2005-07-22
When the dust settled the 14 of them were mine. I know how crazy that is. Sure, 3, 4, maybe. On a real tear a half dozen. But 14? Who buys 14 bras in one fell swoop? I do. That's right. I bought FOURTEEN BRAS yesterday. Technically I only paid for 6.8 of them though. The bras were buy one-get one half off. And I had a $75 coupon. So there ya go. I am not a totally disgusting spendthrift. I am, however, the Retail Avenger. When I stumble onto a brand new shipment of brassieres and my rare as turtle teeth size is in stock I don't dick around. My bras take an extraordinary beating. I treat them well. Gentle cycle. Never in the dryer. Nonetheless, the current crop of titzlings were battle scarred veterans showing signs of severe post-traumatic stress. The new reinforcements couldn't have showed up at a more opportune time. You have to remember the average bra supports about 2lbs of boobage. I ask my bras to support 7 times that amount. The wear and tear on my boulder holders is far above what any bra should be expected to cope with. My bras are the National Guardsmen of the corsetiere universe. Unable to face one more day in my chair I got my act together and hied the children off to the mall for some school shopping. Okay, Alex did the driving. And my raids were store specific guerilla operations. No aimless browsing. No pleasant strolling. I'd swoop in, rifle the clearance racks and sale tables, make some judicious grabs, eyeball clothes held against a child (had no energy for trying on), lade my bearer boy with the keepers, and head for the check-out. Including the bra spree and a stop for lunch I did my boys' entire school shopping in 2.5 hours. Both kids are newly outfitted from head to toe in well fitting, attractive, weather appropriate duds and I didn't pay full price for anything. Damn I'm good. I learned a long time ago not to spit in the shopping gods' eye. Just because I was shopping for other people doesn't mean I should pass up a good bargain for myself. I did that once during a Christmas shopping. Saw a wonderful Ike jacket I know I would have worn to rags and didn't buy it because it would be 'bad' to buy something for myself when I was meant to be shopping for gifts. I still kick myself about that. I learned though. Nowadays I don't hesitate. If I'm presented with a happy bargain and I've got the cash I buy it. Even if I'm not 'officially' shopping for me. Such was the case yesterday. Along with the bras I bought a pile of tops at Old Navy. Multiples of one shirt in several different colors. It's a deadly simple long sleeved scoop necked top with little buttons down the front. It's just a gussied up version of a thermal. Hello 1979. What was old is new again. Couldn't be happier that some styles from a fun time in my life are back. I'm not denying some late 70's fashions are inexplicable and butt ugly to boot. I didn't wear those smock-y maternity looking things back then and I sure as heck won't be wearing them now. Why anyone would want to look preggers when they aren't is a mystery, but those gruesome empire waisted floaty tops are back. God help us. And a right good hit they are too with the fashion victims wandering the mall yesterday. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. But a thermal? Or a near approximation, anyhow. That I'll wear and happily. A close fitting plain top is an aging Barbie's best friend. With a prow like mine I eschew tops with a lot of gimcrack and goobedeedah and I rarely wear prints of any sort. Plain is good. A barge with streamers and swag is absurd. And this barge avoids absurdity if I can. So I bought me a pile of 'thermals' in pretty colors and look forward to cooler weather. It's July and I'm jonesing for October. ~LA
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