Nov 17 2005
This Woman’s Quest
My life can summarized by one simple thing: the never-ending quest for the perfect bra.
It used to be two things — the perfect bra and the perfect purse, but I did find the perfect purse in April of 2000 - a Kenneth Cole, lovely brown leather, very practical and compact bag for a mere $65.00. I carried it for over four years and then bought a new one simply on principle (I’m a woman, by gawd, I deserve a new fucking purse at least every 4 years). This time I bought an Aigner and after a week I knew I hated it but I’d spent too much on it to admit defeat. So I carried it for months more before going back to my 4+ year old Kenneth Cole. And I might just carry that damn thing for the rest of my sorry life. Don’t kick me out of the woman’s club, though, OK?
I still have the bra thing going on. That should keep my club membership fresh. I’m 40 years old and I have basically hated every bra I’ve ever bought.
Remember that scene in the fab movie As Good As It Gets where the Helen Hunt character says “Why can’t I just have a normal boyfriend? Just a regular guy who doesn’t go nuts on me.” and the woman who plays her mother says “Everybody wants that, dear. It doesn’t exist.” That is how I had come to feel about the perfect bra. I was sure it didn’t exist.
Recently, I have been on such a rampage that I’ve been buying bras at a furious rate. Those damn Lane Bryant geniuses know how to hook me (pun, hook - get it? haha) by doing the ‘buy one get one half off’ and then ALSO tossing in their “Real Woman Dollars” which is a SCAM that should be illegal because it always makes me come back and spend, spend, spend.
Anyway, I’ve also picked up a buttload of bras from other discount stores - Walmart The Evil Empire and places like that (for the record, I hate Walmart but it has more to do with the overcrowded insanity that is their store than any political position on wages and benefits and anti-competitive behaviors and all that).
So I have a candidate. Yeah, a WALMART candidate. I have a bra that I actually LIKE. It fits. The straps don’t fall down. the back doesn’t ride up. The wires don’t poke out. I LOVE THIS BRA! So I’ve been wearing the heck out of it and I even tested it to see how well it washes up. Underwires have stayed put and the thing didn’t disintegrate in the spin cycle. WOOO-HOOO. It’s like I’m *this* close to the pot of gold at the end of the brassiere rainbow. I’m ready to get a second mortgage on my house and just go out and buy every one of these damn bras that I can find!
Of course, in order to do that, I need to know the make, model, size, etc. So, I look on the tag.
Even with my 40 year old failing eyes, I can read MADE IN INDONESIA on one side. But the other side? Nothing. Nadda. Zilch. The information all must have faded off in the wash. Can you fucking believe it???
I swear to god, I’m not beyond going to my local hellhole Walmart and pulling my shirt up and giving that old smiley greeter dude a heart attack by saying “Find me everything that looks like THIS in your store, old man, and nobody gets hurt!”
If you see some mad crazy woman doing such a thing on the news, will ya each PayPal a dollar to my husband so he can post bail for me? Please?
Do they have wireless in the county lock-up?
