Bra Shopping For My Birthday

Why is she so furious?!

Last week I spent some time with my two favorite ladyfriends as part of a belated birthday celebration.  After a fair amount of joking, gossiping and catching-up, we took a drive to Red Bank, NJ.  It’s a cute town where we checked out some of the little specialty shops and then went for pizza at Pizza Fusion — a great joint that offers a number of vegan selections.  After dinner I was faced with this: “Now we have to go bra shopping.  Do you wanna go?”

I have a feeling it’s every guy’s nightmare.  Straight, gay or indifferent — following a woman around an underwear store is awful.  You feel out of your element, uncomfortable and outnumbered.  But these girls are two of my best friends!  As we’ve gotten older, we don’t see each other as often, so could I really pass up another hour with them?  I begrudgingly agreed to join them.

Clearly she's a slut

We drove to Menlo Park Mall and began our search.  “I’ll be quick!  I know exactly what I want,” my friend said.  As we entered the first store, I exchanged glances with the other two men inside.  Their eyes all had the same story.  They said: “Get me out of here, get me out of here, get me out of here!!!”

It seems that lots of gay men have an odd fascination with breasts.  They’re foreign mounds of flesh that we’re unfamiliar with.  I was born without the ‘gay chromosome’ for style, fashion, decorating … and boob magnetism.  I honestly could not care less about them.  After once coming out to a girl, I was even told, “I always had a feeling because you never checked out my chest!”

Am I really allowed to be here?

Cup sizes, strapless bras, Wonderbras, half cup, full cup, underwires, halter, padded, sports … what is going on?  And why is there always a little sitting room before the fitting room?  Are guys really allowed to go in there?  As I sat uncomfortably in the sitting room, sure that at any second, a half-dressed woman would scream and kick me out, a familiar tune came on the radio.  It was Justin Bieber, and right then I knew that I was in hell.

We went to three different stores that evening.  We would have gone to more, but the mall was closing for the night.  My friends never found the bra that they had been looking for.  Hopefully they know that I love them, and that’s why I’m willing to be put through such agony.  This wasn’t my first bra shopping experience, and I doubt that it was my last.

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9 thoughts on “Bra Shopping For My Birthday”

  1. I took my sister to buy her first bra. I think that may be the only time I’ve gone a shopping expedition for that exact purpose. I have no boob obsession, though. They exist, same as vajayjays, and I’ve had my hands on or in quite a number of both over the years. None of them human.

  2. I HATE bra shopping. One brand a size fits, another brand the same size doesn’t. You find the exact right color and they don’t have your size or the right size is fugly. Ugh. I salute you for sticking it out.

    Ya freaked me out there for a minute Mel with the “hands in” line. Whew.

  3. I’ve said it before and I will say it again, boobs are fun. I’ve been bra shopping before and have purchased bras on my own for the then Mrs. Not a big issue. Of course, the Mrs. was in the part of the alphabet that required a specialty store, so I didn’t have to deal with the mall atmosphere.

  4. I’m with Tam. Hate it! For the same reasons. I hate shopping for clothes. Why can’t we all wear pajamas?

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