Boobies, boobies, boobies

When I was a tween, I had no desire to develop breasts or wear a bra.

The breasts appeared, thankfully not in the oversized version that burdened my mother. Although they were modest, they had to be harnessed.

At some point, my mother forced me to go bra shopping. It was intensely embarrassing experience, although now I don't know why I felt that way. I looked for the plainest, simplest bras I could find. Still, I found these wire and lace-free contraptions intensely uncomfortable.

Thirty plus years later, I still avoid bra shopping.

This weekend, my aunt (a breast cancer survivor) mentioned that she needed to get bras and needed a fitting. Since we were in a mall running her errands and we had to walk through the store to get to the car, I recommended going to the lingerie section of Nordstrom's.

While she was in the fitting room, I rummaged through the sale rack. Since I had nothing else to do, I thought it was a good time to finish this long-avoided errand for myself and started trying bras on.

Within minutes, I was getting a fitting in the dressing room across from my aunt. This was an unexpected bonding experience.

We joked about my diminishing breasts. I've lost weight since buying my last set of bras and the cup material had begun puckering. I was bracing for an A, AA, or AAA.

She seemed pleasantly surprised that her fitting revealed she needed a double D cup. I was pleased to remain in a B.

Its strange to realize that we care about our breast size in the stereotypical way.

It brings to mind the generalization that men focus on penis length, yet I doubt that their discussions about size would follow the pattern of the banter between my aunt and I. Rather than boldly boasting about our attributes, we express relief, gratitude, and surprise that the flesh remains.

Aside from the first bra shopping experience as a tween, I don't recall bra shopping with anyone since.

It was a somewhat odd thing to do with my aunt now that I am in my forties. But shopping with her made this chore surprisingly pleasant.

Our bodies, attitudes, and relationships change gradually. Its funny that it takes an experience like shopping for bras with my aunt to put that transformation into perspective.