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.

Fruition

I hate shopping, especially for clothes. It is annoying to take my clothes on and off just to check whether something on a hanger will look good once it is on my body.

I often wish I could approach strangers wearing something I like, check that we are the same size, and buy the garment off their back.

Of course, this isn't what I do to build my wardrobe. I shop like everyone else.

Except yesterday.

My dance teacher surprised me at the end of class by handing me a coat she wore a few months ago.

When I first saw the coat, I sent her an email asking if she had bought it recently and where she got it. It turned out she got it a while ago, so it was no longer in stores.

I almost forgot about it until she handed it to me last night.

What a sweet gesture. I am delighted to have it. I have wanted a coat like this for a long time.

Friends who follow astrology tell me the upside of Mercury Retrograde is that things in process reach completion.

My instructor told me she intended to give me the coat a while ago and forgot repeatedly to bring it to class.

Today, an old college boyfriend friended me on Facebook.

A piece of furniture I ordered in September is scheduled to be delivered on Friday.

A friend from high school sent me an email informing me that I would soon get the book she promised to loan me last month.

With all of the missed appointments, mixed messages, and transportation snarls suffered during Mercury Retrograde, it is sweet to savor these fruits.

An Open Countenance

Now that it is very cold in New York, I take the subway rather than walk the 10 blocks from work to my dance class.

When passengers pry doors open to get on board the subway, the conductor hits the door open or close control button to get people in the car or to shut them out so the train can move. When that button is pushed, all of the doors on the platform side of the train open and close simultaneously.

During rush hour, the doors often open and close many times before we roll out of the station. Usually, they open and close quickly to allow a stuck backpack to get pulled in (nice) or to shut on a hand holding the door so it will let go (harsh).

For the passenger hoping to get in, it can be like a jump rope game. As the jumpers watch the moving rope for the perfect window to jump in, the would-be passenger watches door openings carefully to hop in at the right moment when the doors widen just enough to get the whole body through.

Tonight I sat across from the door and saw a pretty woman in a red coat hop on right before we took off. She was holding several red Macy's shopping bags. A big smile was on her face, which could have been attributed to getting on the train successfully or getting her shopping done.

Her beaming face made me smile. I usually don't smile at strangers. Her happiness was extraordinarily contagious.

She looked at my smiling face and sat down next to me. After checking her bags and arranging them on the floor she turned to me and said "Do you shop at Macy's?"

I told her I did. She told me there was a friends and family sale, and began looking for a special coupon in a wallet bulging with receipts and papers.

I thanked her, and explained that I had already done my holiday shopping. It was very unlikely that I would buy anything at Macy's before the coupon expired. I encouraged her to hold on to her special coupon and give it to someone who would use it.

All of this took place in a ride between 34th and 42nd street stations. It probably took less than three minutes. In the short span of a single stop subway ride, I developed a strong sense of goodwill toward this woman I barely met. I don't think I am a particularly friendly person in general, yet she wanted to reward me with her special perk because I had appeared friendly to her.

New Yorkers are often characterized as cold and uncaring. People outside of the city tend to think New Yorkers don't know their neighbors or talk to one another. Yet, I grew up in the suburbs and can't recall ever interacting with someone in the friendly, easy manner that happened tonight. People in the suburbs usually do not have an opportunity to even sit next to a stranger.

This brief subway experience illuminated several things I already know but seem to ignore. When people see a happy person, the happiness spreads. I should make an effort to be friendlier because it encourages pleasant interactions. There is goodwill in the world, but it requires a modest trigger. Part of having the good in people affirmed involves some vulnerability on my part.

Not smiling at strangers prevents any interaction: negative or positive. To see the good side of people, I have to make myself vulnerable to the bad side too.