How many women out there had the Proper Bra Fitting with Mom and Grandma Rite of Passage in their teenage years?
Show of hands?
Yep. Horrifyingly enough, as a young girl my mom and Gma Smith took me down to the fancy department store Sidey’s in Dunkirk/Fredonia. And by fancy I don’t mean only department store known to us hillbillies, although it was the only one…I mean hold hands with mom and don’t break anything -but for the sticker aisle in the stationary department, fancy.
Strange older lady with a tape measure coming over to you in a large dressing room in the dark, faraway lingerie corner of the store with your mom and gma standing next to you looking in the mirror, fancy.
I do remember this well.
Apparently my cousin Brenda went through the same thing with her mom…and Gma Baker. (I can only imagine…so sorry Bren!)
I understand the need for a proper fitting bra and all, trust me you’ve seen my girls. However, at age 12? Ok, maybe me at age 12 needed a wee bit more than an undershirt hanging past the booblets but most girls? I would think most young ladies can get away with trying on solo in the fitting room. Pick up the pretty bra with the elastic band with hearts and stripes and flowers, try it on, plop it into the shopping cart and done!
I hereby promise, if I am blessed to have a daughter…not to make her go with me to a fitting room at Victoria’s Secret to check out her real size. I of course will recommend this process for her as she gets older, but I imagine I don’t need to be there with her. And MOST DEFINITELY I would never see a reason for a grandmother to be there.
So…who else out there is with me? Abolish this Rite of Passage! Or at the very least Abolish the Three Generation Bra Fitting Rite of Passage.
Unless it is just MY family who seemed to follow this tradition? In which case, um…nevermind.