Girl Talk | Brassieres

Call them what you will...Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders, Wiggler De-Jigglers, Boobie Baskets...there's nothing that causes a woman more anguish than shopping for a new torture device.

Previously my anguish came from being a twenty-something browsing the B cups in the store and searching for a bra that had part of the boobs already attached to it (without which I would have been in the A section).  Fate was always cruelest when the little pre-teen saunters by with her full set of D's.

"Excuse me"

Me thinking to myself:  Seriously?!  Cause you know she can't possibly make it past you with those things unless you move.

It was salt in an open wound.  And it happened every time.

Not this time.  Fortunately God knew that I was going to have all the irritation I could handle with this shopping experience.

At about 6:30 last night I updated my FB status to "1 hour, 3 dressing rooms, 24 bras, 0 purchases, 1 irritated woman. #menhaveitsoeasy"  Needless to say it quickly garnered likes and comments from the relatable females on my friends list.

The problem appears to be that I've put this off for too long.  Last time I bought a bra I just got the same brand, style & size as the one I was wearing at the time. muffins are topping in multiple places now and that's not an option this time.

So, to the dressing rooms I go.

And how quickly I discover that a 34B bra and a 36C bra have absolutely nothing more than brand and color in common.  Shape, size,'s a whole new ballgame.  And comfort?  Psha!  You're kidding yourself!

At lunchtime today I braced myself for Round Two, back to one of the stores to try on some other brands I didn't check out last night.  6 more bras there (total now of 30) before I gave up.  On a not-very-thought-out whim I decided to run to Victorias Secret, even though it's Holiday season and I have no business dropping VS prices on a bra when I should be putting that money towards The Boy and his ever-expanding Christmas List.  But I have time to waste, so I go in.

Three bras later I'm kicking myself in the tookus because I feel like my girl bits are on a cloud of blissful comfort in a bengal striped bra with pretty sparkles on it.  The torture part of this device is the price tag. 

My regular bra that JCP discontinued....I could buy three bras (on sale) for the price of this one.  If I sucked it up and got some of the itchy, scratchy bras at TJ Maxx I could buy anywhere from 6-8 bras for the price of this ONE.

This one bra is the equivalent of dinner for my family at Red Lobster, drinks and tip included.  If you know me, you know I'd much rather have Red Lobster.

Two days, 33 bras, and a whole lot of irritation, frustration, and a twinge of regret later I'm still empty handed (no pun intended).  But only because God saw fit to ensure that store would be out of that bra in that color and that size that I needed.

So now, after knowing what it's like to drive a spacious and luxurious sports car, my girls are back to driving their 1973 Fiat 500.

Ain't that the way the cookie crumbles.

And it ain't over yet.

Veterans Day | Sonny's Story

I pulled into the parking lot at work at 8:00 this morning and had a customer waiting in the parking lot for me. 

This is typically never a good way to start a day, much less a Monday.  However, whatever may come of it, it was worth it to have the almost twenty minutes that gentleman sat in my office with me (my computer unfailingly takes 10 minutes to boot up if there's a customer waiting on it).

This customer (I'll use his childhood nickname of "Sonny") asked for the date while filling out his check and I gave it to him and commented that it was the observance of Veterans Day and asked if he'd served. 

"Twenty-four years with the Corps." he casually told me. 

And the story began.

After falling on hard times, his parents and each of their kids, moved to his grandparents' farm where they each got up and worked from sun-up to sun-down.

One day while working in the field, his grandma drove up in the carriage and angrily ordered him get into the buggy.  He did, curious as to why she was so upset with him, and she drove him off to the house where he found Federal Agents waiting on them.

His first question to them was what he'd done to get in trouble.  The agents assured him that he wasn't in trouble, he had been drafted to serve his country.  Sonny refused to talk to them, however, until they informed his Grandmama that he hadn't actually done anything wrong.  They were able to explain it to her and then they continued on with their conversation.

Sonny and his dad were later discussing which unit he'd join, his dad recommending the Army but Sonny was firm that he wanted to join the Marine Corps and so the week after they filled up with gas (at that time the gas pumps required filling a glass cylinder with the number of gallons you wanted), they paid their 10¢ per gallon and were on their way.

After filling out the paperwork, the drafting officer told him to report back in a few days for duty.

His dad was outraged and informed the officer that it cost him 25¢ to get him down here, the papers were signed, and Sonny was their problem now.  His dad left and the Marine Corp had to put him and a few other officers up in a hotel for a few days.

He shipped out to California for his training (I believe he said he was gone 18 weeks) and when he got off the train back in Arkansas, he thumbed a ride with a peddler back to his grandparents farm. When he got out of the car he found his father and grandfather on the porch.  The dog met him with a growl, but he rubbed the dog and played with his ears and let him get a good sniff of him.  After appeasing the dog, his dad told him "I don't know who you are, but that dog seems to.  What business do you have here?"

He told his dad who he was and his dad asked for his papers to make sure he had leave to be home.

The following morning at 4:30 a.m. his dad woke him by shaking his bed.  Sonny leapt out of the bed with a "Yes Sir".  His dad laughed and decided he'd learned something while he was gone after-all.  Sonny was confused at the early-morning wakeup and his dad reminded him that he'd worked that farm all his life, his 14 day leave wasn't a vacation (as he'd thought it would be) it was merely back to work.

After his leave he was shipped over to Korea.  Like many Veterans he skipped over the details of his time overseas but he mentioned that he'd had his money sent home while he was gone.  When he returned he asked his dad to take him to the bank so he could go buy himself a car.

"Well, son...we need to talk about your money," his dad told him.  The family had fallen on hard times and had to use all of the money Sonny had earned.  Without an apology, Sonny accepted it and continued on.

Later, after his father and then his grandfather had passed, his grandmother told him that when she passed the farm would be his.

Confused--as he certainly never wanted the farm--he asked her why.

"All that money of yours that we had to take from you...this farm is yours.  We owe it to you."

The 1,100 acre farm that his grandfather had bought for $30/acre he later sold for $450,000.  And--thanks to having saved some documents from his grandmother--he didn't have to pay a penny's worth of tax on it either.

And just like that, he thanked me for my time, I thanked him for his service and sharing his story with me, and he left. 

Mama, Are We Republicans?

My seven year old got very into the election this year.  I know they've been discussing Presidents at daycare, but his school has apparently also been discussing the election as well.

Having worked around politics before, I hate them.  I hate the lies, the deceit, the slander...politics is not something I will ever willingly participate in because I'm just not the type of person that can easily let stuff roll off my back.  Personal attacks should never be "just part of the game".  You know me and my obviously politics aren't a frequent discussion point at our house, though we may make comments in passing on relevant matters.

Which is why it surprised me when Ty took such an interest in the campaign and the election and even went so far as to tell Jason and I who we needed to vote for.  When I asked him why he felt that way, he only had a child's logic to put behind it, but he was adamant in his decision and his support for his candidate. 

However, last night we did tune in for the election results which prompted a string of questions from Ty as the night progressed--along with a whole slew of information he'd learned on term limits and such like that. 

At bedtime last night Ty asked me "Mama, are we Republicans?" (knowing Jason and I had cast our votes for the Republican candidate.

"No baby, we're Christians."

I elaborated by telling him that we vote based on our Christian beliefs and what man we feel best represents those values and beliefs.

One of my deciding factors in this election was Abortion, so I tried to explain that to Ty. 

"Some parties believe in killing babies while they're still in their Mama's belly."

"I'm glad you didn't kill me while I was in your belly."

"I never even cosidered it, baby.  You had a heart-beat before I even knew you were in my future.  You kicked in my belly.  You had the hiccups in my belly.  You even jumped at loud noises that scared you while you were in my belly.  You were a living, functioning little person.  God gave you life and if he went to all the work of creating you...I believe you were meant to be and it wouldn't be my place to think I was smarter than God."

"I'm glad I'm alive."

"I'm so glad you are, too."

I read on Facebook today, "How can we expect God to stand with us when we're not standing on the Bible?"

How can we expect blessings from a God whom we have alienated, whose greatest blessings we abort because it's inconvenient or painful? What future do we have when we kill the future off before it's born.

God help us...and God help our children--the ones we don't murder have as dire of a future as the ones we do.