SHOPPING  WOES


 

 

 

 

demi-bra

Woeful shopping? How can this be? I’m famously the woman who’s always happy to go shopping, be it for cat litter and baked beans, or books and perfume.  I enjoy shopping. I like shopping. Many of my  friends roll their eyes,  groan and say I hate shopping!  But not me.  I think this springs from my shopping-deprived childhood (a combo of boarding schools and  remote homes in  tropical regions minus shops) topped up by years of zero-fun shopping in sanctions plagued shops in Rhodesia.  We could get the essentials, but the shelves were pretty bare during those years, and luxuries e.g. chocolate , disappeared from our shops. Despite this difficulty, we survived.

Consequently ,when I arrived in my new country, every trip to the shops felt like Christmas . So much merchandise  –  so much choice –  to see it all spread out in such a gorgeous, lavish display. Years later, experiencing my first  Sainsbury’s store in the  UK, I found aisle after aisle of vegetarian food – I had no idea so many vegetarian products even existed!  More recently, I nearly had an orgasm when faced with the endless delights of the shelves in Kinokunia’s mega- bookstore in Sydney –  a reader’s paradise on earth.  So much for the highlights of my shopping experience.

Now comes the low point, the nadir, the pits : shopping for a new bra. Just the worst task in the world. Why?  I hear you ask. Just for openers, I made the big mistake of tackling the task alone. If you have an accompanying friend, then she can trundle back and forth between the  change cubicle and the racks of underwear, while you cower in the cubicle, desperately avoiding the unsavoury reflection of your saggy bod in the harshly lit, full-length mirror. I don’t know what it is about those mirrors, but whatever your defects are, they are magnified ten times over, and you vow to starve until you have lost 5 kgs – at the very least – in the vain hopes that those folds and rolls might disappear. And you will definitely go to the gym every single day  from now on.

At which point your helper returns with another selection of bras for you to try on. Naturally, the only one which sort of fits turns out to be the last remaining item in stock, and no, trying one size bigger/smaller,  is not the solution. And why is it that lingerie manufacturers promptly discontinue manufacturing  the one  bra that actually fits you and doesn’t  make you look like a dancer in a Madonna music video?  You prudently bought two of them, three years ago, and now they are as extinct as Queen Victoria’s corsets.

If you’ve been so foolish as to undertake this exercise alone, life is hell.  You hunt up an item that looks as if it might fit (by the way, I’m long past frivolous considerations such as appearance, or sexiness or preferred colour – forget it).   Disrobe, try it on, and it doesn’t fit.  Now you have to get dressed again, hand in your numbered disc to the custodian at the entrance, plus the non-fitting bra, and hike back to the Underwear Department. You look around for an assistant – but no such luck. There’s a chart hanging off a rack that explains how to measure  your mammaries correctly, but no professionally trained lady  wielding her tape measure to perform the task and give advice, or even – radical idea – some help.

Now you’ve lost the rack where you found the  original, wrong-size bra: you dash up and down searching for it,  and collide with two small boys  aged 8 and 10, who are zipping noisily in and out and round about the racks of underwear, gleeful grins pasted on their faces – I mean, come on! Who takes boys into a Ladies’ Underwear Department?  Unisex is all very well, but  hey! Maybe I’m just old fashioned?  Their mother is concentrating hard on the labels of sports bras, and ignoring them.

Finally you locate the original rack, only to find there is no bigger size available. So you start over.  Back and forth you go, undressing, trying on, dressing, hiking back to the racks, searching for an item that is actually hanging on the correctly labelled hangar – you get hotter and sweatier and more and more desperate . The change cubicle gets hotter & steamier, and you break out in a rash due to heat, anxiety and too much scratchy nylon lace.  After half an hour, you succeed!  Now to go and get a duplicate and you can queue at the cash till, and escape. But no. For some inexplicable reason the bra in your hand is priced at R160-00 (which is an outrageous price, don’t you think?) and a duplicate item is priced at R192-00.  Grrrhhh! I feel sure Ladies’ Underwear Departments qualify as one of the  outer circles of Hell.

My poor old boobs headed South years ago, and at this stage, so have my spirits. I give up, go home, brew a gallon of tea, and fume.  And I still don’t have a new bra.

 

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12 Comments

Filed under HUMOUR, SOCIAL COMMENT

12 responses to “SHOPPING  WOES

  1. I hear you, sister! And judging from the flustered fellow-women looking through the bra-aisles, trying desperately to find their sizes – and on a correctly marked hanger – you are not alone.

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  2. Lindsey van Heerden

    If they don’t have the bras I wear next time I go to Edgars (Shelley’s padded gym bras) I’m going bra-less from then on and to hell with everyone! Excellent topic – there is a desperate need for the ‘bra shopping experience’ to be improved …. altho’ I’m guessing this is falling on deaf ears 😉

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  3. Marita

    I know the feeling! Quite by accident I discovered very comfortable bras that cost all of about $9 here in New Zealand – absolutely perfect for my sorry saggers, BUT they last about 2 washes in the washing machine before they start falling apart. I can’t quite figure out if I’ve had my money’s worth by then as they are so comfortable, or whether I should go back to spending a lot of money on uncomfortable bras which last longer.

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  4. Ageing appendages and accommodation scarce! I love it!

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  5. Brilliantly written and a perfect description of the Bra-Nightmare-Shopping experience. Its just the same here, or at least it is in Marks and Sparks, Norwich, Norfolk, UK. Because of this I gave up the fight ages ago, along with my boob navigation efforts, south is the only direction they know. Alas and alack! 😊

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    • Seems like bra-shopping is a global nightmare, judging from the range of comments this post has received. There’s got to be a better way – but not quite sure what it is.

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  6. Eileen Turner

    Empathise with this one. However, for me, it extends to ALL clothing shopping!! Really dislike shopping for any clothes. Of course, the season is absolutely wrong at present to shop for anything unless absolutely necessary. Our very large shopping mall – parking for over 8000 vehicles! – is heated, in the winter, to the temp of the Sahara Desert. Just before Christmas, there will be over 150 000 shoppers per day, no parking available. If one is brave enough to venture there, it is possible that you will be in a long line of shoppers and unable to get into any shop you would actually like to visit. I STOP going to Meadowhall mid November and only return when the after Christmas Sales are finished. So no new bras for me, Alison for many weeks!!

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