Friday, April 06, 2007

Promises, Promises

On Monday, against my will, I went to purchase new bras to accommodate some of the effects of pregnancy. Women who covet the idea of larger breasts might view this as a form of bragging, but for those who consider their bosom ample or more than so, you know that the growth of your mammeries is anything but cause for celebration. It took me years to embrace being well endowed, and, even now, I think longingly of what it might be like to be a cup size or two smaller.

Bra shopping has never caused me anything but much weeping and gnashing of teeth. Ditto for shopping for swimwear. Just ask my mother and sister who have whispered words of encouragement from outside of the dressing room while secretly vowing never to shop with me ever again. Thanks to an encouraging husband and a reformed view of myself and the womanly form at large, I can generally make it through a shopping trip without one curse word or tear these days.

This is not to say that I enjoy bra shopping anymore than I used to, particularly not when having to shop for larger bras. So I set out for a usually deserted department store early in the day, when I was not likely to have to deal with many customers and/or sales personnel. As my daughter and I wandered the intimates section, my daughter gleefully proclaimed the beauty of woman's foundation garments begging me try on a hot pink bra in a B cup and red polka dot bra in a C cup. When we got to the section where I was forced to shop, she promptly proclaimed the grand selection of styleless tan, white, and black bras to be "boring" and followed that with "I don't like these." Who the hell taught her the word "boring"?

Often attached to the front of any bra is small tag that has a brief advertising promise for the purchaser. For the smaller sizes, it generally makes a brief promise of the appearance of a larger breast in some way, shape, or form. As bras increase in size, the promise usually changes from amplification to minimization. On the bras I deposited in my basket to try on, the only promise they could make to the purchaser was "Smooths Back Rolls" -- in other words, at this point lady, we can't hide'em so all we can do is try to keep it all under wraps for you. Sigh!

The week has really gone down hill from there. In spite of having the week off from both work and school due to spring break, a series of unfortunate events have made what I had hoped to be a relaxing yet productive week into a very stressful and emotional week. 5 family members have been to the hospital for completely unrelated reasons this week, and 2 of them remain in hospitals still. Earlier today, my dear grandmother, for whom our daughter is named, had not only her husband, but also her 2 month old grandson and identical twin sister all admitted into the same hospital. Thankfully, her grandson, my cousin, will recover soon from a bad case of the roto virus, but the prognosis for my grandpa and great-aunt are not likely to be as favorable. Her sister's battle with cancer is growing grim, and they've yet to figure out how to control the strokes and/or seizures my grandpa is suffering.

My sister, who is just as pregnant as I am, spent the night in the hospital earlier this week with inexplicable pain in her back, that they've yet to identify or cure. She is heavily medicated. Thankfully, it seems to be unrelated to her pregnancy and not affecting the baby. My own husband was had his own dealings with medical professionals this week, his not being an emergency, thank goodness. But as I sat alone, waiting to take him home following his procedure on Thursday, I gave a lot of thought to growing old and having to watch him grow old with me. I thought of what it will be like when our medical needs are more frequent and urgent due to age, and what it must be like when the day comes that you realize the quantity of your remaining days. All of this happened prior to knowing what my grandma would have to endure this weekend with 3 of her closest kin. And now I recall the thoughts I had on Thursday when waiting for Pat, and I mourn for my grandma understanding a bit better now that true fear isn't your own mortality but that of those you love most.

Its not been a good week, and I cringe when the phone rings, after receiving so much bad news already. It makes one wonder what tomorrow will bring, but I know, no matter what happens, my back rolls will be smooth.

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