From the vault: Don't Talk About the BRA

An excerpt from an email to my brother, recounting how ridiculous my life can be:


Lady RaRa WANTS training bras. Saw some in a store, equated them with a girl at school (they are BFFs & frenemies all in one ball of girlitude). WANTS.

I said: "Sistah, I do not have extra cash to blow on training bras."
(Radish): "Well, how long is it til I need them?"
(Wet Blanket Mother): "Who knows? 7th grade? Depends on your body."
(Radish) *crestfallen*

This has gone on for a few weeks.

FF to Saturday in Marshalls. We have already had the training bra discussion in another store that morning. Lady RaRa looks down and finds $10 on the floor!!!! No one is around. My moralness says turn it in! My reasonableness says "the dude at the customer service desk is gonna keep it!". I tell Radish to keep it.


Can you see where this is going?


Radish takes two steps forward, turns and LIKE FROM THE GODS there is the rack of training bras!!!!



SERENDIPITY I TELL YOU!



So, now the 8 year old flat chested child is sporting training bras. It's EVERYTHING I can do not to roll around on the ground laughing. She DOES NOT want The Hero to know. Said Hero walks in the house the following day from a camping trip, takes one look at Radish and says "why is Radish wearing a bra?" I had to tackle him to make him shut up before she had apoplexy.


I suppose I could have said NO. but. they were $2 each, and whatever. They are under her scoliosis brace; she feels grownup.


OMG you should only HEAR the discussion about "my bra my bra my bra my bra is falling down oh look you can see my bra from the side do you think daddy will notice i am wearing a bra?"



Very very very tired of the bra. I dread puberty.