The middle school years I talked about happened in San Diego. I moved to Los Angeles for High School when my mom married my step-dad. I want to share a story about getting my first “real” bra. I’m sure all women have a bra story, but mine (I think) is slightly more amusing than most.
My mom was sick and tired of me wearing sports bras everywhere. (I played volleyball). Sports bras didn’t really work under nice dresses as much as I tried to make them to. They did, however, hide the fact that I was large chested, which is what I wanted. Mom finally reached the tipping point and took me to a small lingerie shop. The store was a lot like the large chain of today, only the catered to more sizes. I’m not disparaging said chain, as over the years they’ve increased their size offerings, but I know there are still tons of sizes they don’t cater to. Side note, when I lived in England, it was the happiest I’ve ever been with bra shopping. I had no trouble finding my size or a variety of cute and sexy styles.
We walked in and the associate, an older woman, looked at me and said, “You B cup.” Both my mom & I shook our heads and said, “No.” She said, “You B cup, I be right back.” By the time she came back, I had taken off my sports bra. She took one look at me and said, “You not B cup. I find bra for you that make you look like pancake.” It makes me laugh to think about it. Especially since it’s all I wanted then. I wanted to be like “pancake”. I didn’t want people, mainly boys, to know that at 14 I was wearing a D/DD bra.
I can remember how that bra looked. It seemed like a foreign contraption. It had thick, padded straps and felt like I was wearing a certain famous cone bra. I know it didn’t look that way. Finding bras has always been a battle. I’m sure that one of my installments of Curvy Girl Complications will cover this. Stay tuned for the next one….