Bra Hopping

The Flirting with Forty book release party is just two days away and I had a list of endless errands to get done today, among them buying more drink cups, order blown up book covers at Kinko’s, deliver vases to florist for tropical arrangements, and confirm with the musicians, a Hawaiian trio composed of University of Washington math professors.

And then there was the trip to Nordstrom’s lingerie department because I had to have new bras.

Not because anyone is going to see them at the party–or anytime else anytime soon–but I’m not liking the one(s) I’m wearing. They’re too binding, too underwired, too padded, too push up, too confining, too loose, too lumpy, too lopsided. You name it, and it’s bothering me. The truth is, Hawaii is ruining undergarments for me. Hawaii represents hanging loose (just ask my boys) and Bellevue represents….restricting underwear.

So today my goal was simple: comfortable bras. With a couple other requests including attractive, and uh, figure enhancing. And you know what? I found it. With almost the first bra I tried on. And I don’t know how it’s constructed, but it’s an amazing bra. It has no wires, no itchy lace, no elastic edging, no nothing that will make me wiggle and squirm and pluck and complain. Just silky smooth fabric and an affordable price.

I was so thrilled in the dressing room that I immediately asked for one in each color (black, nude and pale pink) and then bought two more for travel because that’s when I need them–on airplanes, at book signings, in airports, in cabs, in lines, in those early mornings and late nights and times when I’m so tired I just want to rip off my clothes and parade around naked (don’t worry, I won’t). And now I won’t have to. Because DKNY has made a very comfortable bra and my rib cage won’t get rubbed, pinched, irritated and my shoulders won’t feel rubbed, pinched, irritated, and folks, that should mean my problems are solved.

I’ll be comfortable.

I’ll feel blessed.

I’ll know perfect peace.

At least for the first fifteen minutes after dressing. Well, five minutes.

After that?

Lord help us. It’s anybody’s guess.

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