Sunday, February 22, 2009
My mom decided that I needed a bra. I'm not sure how old I was - probably she'll comment on this post (in the process of denying the whole thing) and tell us all. Anyway, do you think she saw this as an opportunity to bond with me? Or at least to leave me in a state of high self esteem? Oh no. She was thinking that the most important thing was to have me measured right.
My mom was rather obsessed with measurement. She tested each of us kids 3 different times for IQ during her PhD study but she never told us how we scored. She also liked to take us to Toby's Stride Rite because Toby really knew how to measure feet. Well, my grandfather was a shoe guy too, so maybe the measuring thing got drummed into hear head in her own past trauma, I don't know.
Anyway, she was thinking that she was not trustworthy to put a tape measure around me and haul me over to JC Penny's in peace, so she took me to a place called Margaret's Corset Shop.
Oh yeah. Margaret's does a brisk business - in fact, it's still there on Maryland in St. Louis.
Margaret's is not really the Victoria's Secret of St. Louis. To my childlike mind - it was like a part of a scary movie. Margaret's had a specialty in mastectomy supply. Yup. The mannequins all looked like this:
And corset isn't Margaret's middle name for nothin'. It made me wonder: oh my God, what the HELL IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME??? If I wasn't terrified of maturing before then, I sure was after getting a load of the merch at Margaret's.
suck it in, baby.
My mother did not even bother to warn me so I walked into the freaky woman body part situation completely cold.
The little bell on the door rang. And out crept a small woman. She hobbled over to us - I swear she was no taller than I was at the time - and my mom told her we were there to get measured for a proper brassiere.
So she led me to a dressing room and pulled the curtain shut. I took off my shirt and she took out her measuring tape. And she had THE COLDEST AND GNARLIEST HANDS KNOWN TO ALL MANKIND. And then said, "oh, you're developing nicely, dear."
Really. And I still grew up kind of ok. One of the bras from that trip was white with a little pink flower in the middle. I liked that one. Hey what can I say - such is the nature of a flashback.
7 comments:
That is hilarious, given that I posted my comment to your other post before I read this one. Are you sure she took you to Margaret's and not to Ann's? Your saleswoman description seems pretty close to mine. Did she look like Mole from Wind in the Willows? If so, we need to corroborate our stories, because one of us is wrong. Unless both shops are owned by the same family, which is very possible.
You left out the other important measuring tool - Grandma Bess's beloved silk measuring tape shirt.
I like this evaluation of Mom as someone who feels the need for accurate measurement. That can be applied to a lot of things about her, and explains quite a bit.
Yes, Shelley went to Margaret's and Alison went to Ann's, because there was a Margaret's before there was an Ann's. And what's with you creepy women any way? I would think you would be grateful that your mother actually wanted you to be fitted in a garment that would be comfortable and not damage developing tissue. My mother, for your info, went to JC Penney WITHOUT ME and brought home something which she thought would fit. It did not fit very well and was uncomfortable, but I had to wear it anyway. So stop your beefing. You're both spoiled rotten. And Alison, if Ann's was such a terrible place, how come you just went back? HUH?????
Because I figured Ann would be dead by last year. I don't think she is - she just wasn't hobbling about the store.
Yes Mom. We're grateful. And we are inconsiderate thoughtless girls with bad memories and we were lucky to have you. Thank you for not getting me a JC Penney bra. It was probably better to have a completely brain searing experience at Margaret's one time, than an ill fitting bra perhaps for the rest of my life.
AND ALSO PS - THE CRUMPLED LITTLE LADY AT MARGARET'S DID LOOK LIKE THE MOLE FROM WIND IN THE WILLOWS!!
That went well....
Try to visit me at The Home once a year.
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