So Many Bras, So Few Choices

I need a new bra. Searching for a comfortable bra is such an ordeal for me. I dread shopping for bras more than I dread a trip to the dentist.  In fact, I visit the dentist twice a year – and that’s more often than I care to shop for bras.

             I will tighten the shoulder straps to pull everything up and move the back hooks in another notch, to compensate for overstretched elastic, just to buy me another one to three months of wear.

I didn’t feel this way about bra shopping when I was young. Of course, there weren’t that many choices either.  There were the white cotton bras you saw hanging on the clothesline next to your father’s work pants  - the kind your mother and your grandmother wore, and there were the bras I wore. They were so flimsy I had to wash them by hand in the bathroom sink and hang them over a chair to dry.

I always leave the dressing room of the bra department these days feeling like I’ve been beaten up. I try on bras with thick under wires that cut into my ribs. Some bras have seams in the cup that aren’t finished smoothly and I get all scratched up and itchy.  Other cups are filled with jumbo pads, so thick, that I feel like I’m carrying an extra pound of armor on my chest.  If the shoulder straps are too thin, they bore down into my shoulders, leaving little ruts of red stripes in their wake.  It’s no wonder I feel the need to go home afterwards and console myself with a chilled martini and a hot bubble bath.

And yet, with so many choices in the bra department, I still can’t find a comfortable bra. If I am lucky enough to find one, I usually can’t find it in my size. So I stand in front of the dressing room mirror, turning in different directions, squinting my eyes and thinking…if I lost 20 pounds it might fit.

A recent trip to Macy’s bra department left me dazed and dizzy, like a character in the Mel Brooks comedy High Anxiety.  I walked around and around in circles, up and down tightly packed aisles, lost in a sea of brassieres, calling out for my mother. (I hadn’t lost my mind; my mother was actually shopping with me.)

I don’t know if I’m getting shorter, or the racks were higher than usual, but it created a maze effect and I couldn’t see over the tops of the bras to find my way out.  I finally found the path that led me to a clearing and out to safety.

I’m due for a dental checkup this month. I’m just waiting for the little postcard reminding me to call for an appointment. This time of year, I also go for my total body skin cancer screening, and next month I’m due for my annual gynecological exam.  With so many options available, I ask you, why would I want to go bra shopping again any time in the near future?