Bertha's Secret


As I entered, the "Victora's Secret" store at the mall, the eyes of the woman on the window poster looked sideways at me, like some portrait in a haunted mansion.

Inside, images of shapely women in underwear made me feel like maybe I was in the wrong place.  I appear to have the same anatomical parts, but someone stepped on mine and yanked them down like a window shade.  None of the models look very happy.   My daughter once asked, “Why aren’t they smiling?” “They’re hungry, dear.  And cold.”

“Do you have anything that will fit me?”  I asked a skinny clerk.  All I wanted was something new to wear to sleep in instead of baggy shirts and pajama pants. Is there such a store as “Bertha’s Secret”? I wondered, where "weathered" women go?

“You could try the clearance rack,” she offered, stiffly.  The clearance rack is where they send freaks like me, to scrounge around for factory misfits.  

I can hear it now...

“Hey, let’s get all the material together and make a huge one--big enough to fit Ying-Ling the panda they’d joke in some far-eastern sewing room.

I picked up something and held it next to me.  It was so structured, it stood up all by itself on the dressing room chair, challenging me to strap it on like a Roman chest plate.  It was red and ridiculous, but it fit and buying it would mean I could carry that slutty lingerie bag all through the mall.  It wasn't the pajamas I sought, but it would do. It would do.

“I’ll take it,” I beamed, “and wear it home.”  As I left the store, the poster model’s eyes again shifted sideways, but I pulled my shoulders back, my new rack in front of me--where it belonged--for the first time in many years.

I’ve felt alluring.

My self-worth improvement was not without consequence, however, as my new chest-enhancing, molded-foam apparatus made me unbalanced.  My body radar askew, I kept bumping into things like a wind-up toy that runs into walls and changes directions.  With things pushed tightly together, my air supply was being compromised, dizzy, I brushed up against things and I couldn’t see my lap at lunch.

"What's different about you?" my co-worker asked. 

Proud for a moment, taking in what was sure to be compliment, I realized that my red bra had started to weaken, and in awful moment sprang open in the back. 

Bertha, are you out there? It's me Heidi.
 



 



Comments

Anonymous said…
Funny!! I can totally relate. I might have to break my boycott of that store and check out that bra...last time I was in there, they didn't even have my size! LOL
gail Kent said…
Love it, Heidi! At least you have something to put into those things!
rachel said…
Very funny - and brave.

I go for fittings, when my bras reach the point of no return, to good old safe John Lewis where a ferocious Polish woman with an I've-seen-it-all-before expression wrenches and hoicks me into something resembling plain white upholstery. Then my Alexander teacher lectures me on the posture-wrecking effect of tight bras and undoes all the Polish woman's good work. I am SO sorry for laughing at poor old Miss L at school who grew up and remained bra-less all her life, with disastrous consequences and a vivid illustration of the power of gravity.....
Gail--the thing about those bras is you don't need ANYTHING to put in them--they are their own entity.
joanne lee said…
I bought a Wonder bra, to wear with a V-neck dress that I had bought, because I have nothing to put in a bra. I wore it to my son's house for dinner on Easter. None of my family would look at me! Everytime I talked to them they would look at the floor. Finally my son (father of 4 girls)walked into a room where everyone was chatting and broke the ice by saying..."What are we all talking about? Mom's new boobs?" I put a sweat shirt on for the rest of the evening!
Janet Johnson said…
Great story! I really HATE bra shopping. All you can do is have a sense of humor about it. :)
Tahereh said…
LOOOOL

YOU ARE TOO FUNNY!!

i loved this!!
Stinkin' funny' ! Be careful, Heidi...you'll shoot your eye out with those things!
Von said…
Haaaa Haaaa Hope you've got your balance now and started to feel glamourously alluring.
I too had the misfortune to have to go hunting for something to truss myself into on the occassions I'm not in a flannie.Not a lot of choice but what there was was designed by a big girl, marketed by a big girl, looks ok and is reasonably comfortable once you get used to that holding your breath feeling.And I couldn't believe the matching big girl pants!!!
Carrie Van Horn said…
Love it!!! A story that many of us could tell, and relate to. Thank you! :-)
Anonymous said…
I love this story! It was too funny!

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