i cried in victoria’s secret.
it was the early 90s and my girlfriend carol and i were shopping in the mall. there was a new bra out at the vs store – the miracle bra – and we were fixin’ to get us a couple.
we wandered in, chatting and laughing, our modus operandi no matter where we went those days, and went directly to the miracle bras. we were gonna buy these miracles and just shock the living heck out of our husbands and, really, everyone else. because, lord knows, everyone cares.
we selected a few different colors and looked for our sizes.
that was when the problem started.
i have not been graced, let’s just say, with a vast bosom. on the contrary, i take more after my …waitforit… father. nevertheless, “the secret” had promised me a miracle and i was after it.
however…there was no miracle made in my size.
i – with great hope – carried in a few other sizes and tried them on. it didn’t help that in the fitting room next to me carol – supposedly the best of friends, supportive in every moment and situation – was ooh-ing and aah-ing over HER new miracle.
in MY fitting room, i was wondering who else might want to share the bra i was trying on; there was extra space, extra fabric, extra everything. well, everything except the miracle.
the sales associate tried to assuage me by lofting into the fitting room various other bra styles and sizes. it was all to no avail. i literally cried.
victoria’s secret had not created a miracle. it had created a soul-wrenching sense of humiliating failure. my breasts did not measure up. “the secret’s” standards of beauty…oppressive. what the hell. we are talking about bras here.
with that in my history-dna, i was ultra proud of jax, a singer-songwriter, who flash-mobbed VS with her new song about their body shaming. i felt just a little sense of satisfaction. it WAS made up by a dude, and dudes everywhere, despite their own body-imperfections, seem to buy into it. the really, really sad part is that women have too. and i had been one of them. jax’s actions and song earned millions of hits. i say, “you go, sistah!”.
this amazing daylily caught my attention out front of our old brick wall. i named it the “i-wanna-be-a-bird” daylily. gorgeous, it reminded me also of origami cranes and its graceful curves were beautiful. i whispered to it, “you don’t have to be a bird. you are a stunning daylily, so be a daylily!”
it whispered back, “but, but…” and i shushed it, “you’re perfect the way you are.”