Last evening, for reasons I cannot remember, my eight-and-a-half-year-old third grader asked if she could get a bra. Well, bras. For a girl, the first bra is a big deal, and I am fairly certain that the vast majority of ladies out there remember their first (or at least early) experience with that mystical piece of fabric.
My earliest memory of bra-land was in the fourth grade. A note came home informing families that scoliosis tests were being conducted the next day. Girls were instructed to wear a bra, so they could be examined together in the same room (rather than sending them one at a time into a smaller room with the nurse).
I was a skinny, flat-chested girl, and I did not own this white, shapeless garment, unlike every other girl in my class (most of whom were equally as flat-chested). So when the school nurse conducted the test, I was examined separately, while everyone else got to giggle with one another. I remember being pretty embarrassed. Even worse was getting the nerve to explain to my mother that I needed a bra "because everyone else has one."
Soon after that presumably painful conversation, my mom took me bra shopping. My Grandma Yoyo was there (yes, that is what we called her, and, no, I am not entirely sure why), and she was pretty cool about it, asking me which kind the other girls had, to be sure I got the "right" kind (my mom, on the other hand, was just not good with anything like this). I can almost picture that white stretchy thing we ended up buying; I don't think there were many choices back in the late '70s.
Funny thing is, for years after that, I hardly wore bras because there was no need. In fact, I clearly remember my first day of high school and how I forgot to wear one with my polyester striped tank top and lovely matching knickers. But eventually my 100-pound body grew up and out, and let's just leave it at that. :-)
But today, J and I headed to Kohl's, where we looked through a far more interesting assortment of undergarments than there were over 30 years ago. She eventually settled on some colorful numbers, and I smiled, thinking how silly it is for a "little" girl to want this, but how glad I am that we could do this, with no embarrassment whatsoever. And this was even after I told her about how I once stuffed my bra with cotton balls (many, many years ago). Her response? Why didn't I just use balloons?!
Now excuse me while I go play princesses with my baby.
My earliest memory of bra-land was in the fourth grade. A note came home informing families that scoliosis tests were being conducted the next day. Girls were instructed to wear a bra, so they could be examined together in the same room (rather than sending them one at a time into a smaller room with the nurse).
I was a skinny, flat-chested girl, and I did not own this white, shapeless garment, unlike every other girl in my class (most of whom were equally as flat-chested). So when the school nurse conducted the test, I was examined separately, while everyone else got to giggle with one another. I remember being pretty embarrassed. Even worse was getting the nerve to explain to my mother that I needed a bra "because everyone else has one."
Soon after that presumably painful conversation, my mom took me bra shopping. My Grandma Yoyo was there (yes, that is what we called her, and, no, I am not entirely sure why), and she was pretty cool about it, asking me which kind the other girls had, to be sure I got the "right" kind (my mom, on the other hand, was just not good with anything like this). I can almost picture that white stretchy thing we ended up buying; I don't think there were many choices back in the late '70s.
Funny thing is, for years after that, I hardly wore bras because there was no need. In fact, I clearly remember my first day of high school and how I forgot to wear one with my polyester striped tank top and lovely matching knickers. But eventually my 100-pound body grew up and out, and let's just leave it at that. :-)
But today, J and I headed to Kohl's, where we looked through a far more interesting assortment of undergarments than there were over 30 years ago. She eventually settled on some colorful numbers, and I smiled, thinking how silly it is for a "little" girl to want this, but how glad I am that we could do this, with no embarrassment whatsoever. And this was even after I told her about how I once stuffed my bra with cotton balls (many, many years ago). Her response? Why didn't I just use balloons?!
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| Where were these cool-looking things when I was a kid?! |
Now excuse me while I go play princesses with my baby.
Comments
Lynnette: Isn't it though? Jordan said you would just need to blow them up a little bit. Let's hope she does not see this one through.
Burgh Baby: I had a lot more than 13 seconds to wear those. More like eight or nine years. But how I miss the days of stomach sleeping...