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Friday, 25 April 2014

Gee Whiz

By Joanne Zimmermann

Men will really never appreciate all that we ladies have to do in order to get a perfect fit in our bra choices. For many years I have been a size 38C with the 38 meaning my chest size measured below my bust and C referring to the cup size.

It seems that lately I needed to get a 40 so as not to constrict my breathing.

A 40C is pretty hard to find and kind of plain, industrial chic while all the frilly, girly ones are in smaller sizes. I also prefer ones that open in the front as they are easier to put on but not too easy to find.

I am not the youngest in the room anymore and comfort is getting to be the main goal but I was still hoping that I could still be kind of sexy too.

I left my companion at the center court of the mall and said I was going to the department store foundation section where a fitter was on duty. I had already been rejected at Victoria’s Secret, size-wise, much to his dismay because he wanted to permanently camp out. How strange that was!

Upon entering the upstairs bra department, I met a great saleslady and there was no other customer at the time. She happily brought me some trial numbers in 40B and 38C, and again I was frustrated that such a large department store would not have my size of 40C.

She did explain that front closing bras would not really give me the support I now needed (wonder why) and suggested I try a rear-loading model. After she helped me put one on, she said I really was not a 40C and brought her tape measure to prove it.

Well, I could not believe I was only a 34, but she also added that I was a triple D, a DDD for heaven’s sake. How could that be? I am 81 and this sounded like Dolly Parton.

I humored her while trying on several versions for her to determine just what kind I could wear, with names and prices I never heard of before.

Finally she found a frilly white one that almost fit the bill but in that model the triple D was not enough and a brand new size was coming next week, a 34G.” A what?? What happened to E and F?

Gee Whiz!

Another clerk called back asking if a Joanne was in there? My honey was worried and wondered what could possibly be taking so long.

I quickly dressed and came out where the clerk handed me her card with the bra name and size and asked that I call her in a week or so when I would be the first to own such a new super-size.

My lover was just amazed at my newly announced figure and his eyes rolled around with sheer delight.

The clerk seemed overjoyed to bring such happiness to a couple who obviously thought such pleasures to be way in the past and as we went down the escalator holding hands, I was thinking how good it is to be alive.

He was thinking of what he was going to tell his bridge buddies.

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


I'm envious, but envy never got anyone anywhere so I'll have to be content with my 32B size. Great humorous story.

Sounds like it is time to ask Dolly Parton where she buys her bras! Seems to me that if you were a 34G, I would think you would have a bad backache and be walking around bent halfway over!

Wow! Joanne, how lucky for you that you found a genuine bra fitter. Hope the new size works out for you.

Oh, well, even if the new bra doesn't work as well as hoped, it has already done a wonderful service for your honey.

Imagine being invited out to lunch at the Gentlemen's Club on the strength of his story about the day his wife found out she was the same bra size as Dolly Parton.

What a morale booster......

It's a wonderful and humorous story. Buying a bra is not an easy job, and--as you suggest--can take a huge amount of time. I prefer to leave my husband at home when I embark on a bra-shopping trip.

My dear departed girlfriend was put on steroids for an autoimmune problem. An unexpected side effect was that they made her formerly flat chest "blossom".

She said she rolled over in bed one morning and there they were. She asked her husband, "What are we supposed to do with these?"

He looked at her for a few seconds then shrugged and said, "I dunno, I'm a leg man myself." God rest her soul, she was a riot.

Bra excursions are always an adventure for those of us who are well endowed. But this was a hoot! Funny.

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