Sunday, February 19, 2017





Once more to Nordstroms-as a teeny political statement made possible by a Christmas gift card bonus from one of my jobs-that was one of my life goals-to work a job where they passed out a Christmas bonus. CHECK! 

One of the greatest experiences a person could have in the universe with my Mom(who died three years ago this week-thanks Facebook for the 'after the exact anniversary day' reminder)was to have her take you to Oak Brook. It was a whole ritual including probably getting something to eat in the basement of Marshall Fields and bringing home a bag of licorice for my Dad and then, when we got home, having a fresh out of the bag fashion show. And here's me now, going alone. To a different store in a different corner of Oak Brook. Brave New World. Or something. 


Anyway yeah, this time for what they used to call underpinnings and I consulted with my cancer kicking pal if I should call ahead or just show up and she told me I should make an appointment with a fitter. 

Oh. Okay. 



Her name was Faye and I bumped into her right away and she looked nicely neutral, if that makes sense. There are a lot of style masters strolling around Nordstroms with all forms of intimidating sharp-edged eyeliner. Faye asked me what I was looking for and I used the code word: comfort. 




We entered the fitting room, she measured me and set off to gather an armload of choices. Eight all together. I tell you what, eight never happened on the third floor of Marshall Fields. I put on the first one and bravely stood before the mirror with Faye peeking around behind me and I heard an audible gasp. 










I thought, well THAT'S seriously weird, having the fitter react like that at this very moment in time and then, pow, I realized the gasp had actually come out of me. 

I completely forgot about the gigantic scar that runs straight down my body and there it was in all it's rosy red glory reflected in a three-way mirror and here's the dumbest thing ever: I apologized. 

Which is more frightening, the exposure of the scar or the apology. Right? Sheesh. What a maroon. 





The way this went was, I put one on and she stood behind me-frowning in thought-making some adjustments and then passing the next possibility around me. I was-for sure-naked but at the same time never really exposed. That's why you go to a professional, right?

Also I learned a putting on a bra new maneuver that nobody ever told me about. What's up with that? 

We got down to three and then one revealed itself as being The One. I added ten dollars and ten cents to my gift card and off I went. Got home, put it on and started in on handcrafting my taxes. I was sitting for an hour or two and I keep hearing this creaking noise. Creaking is not good.

Reconsulted my cancer smashing pal, found the receipt, called Nordstroms and apologetically(you see a theme happening here?) inquired about returning said merchandise. They said fine. 

Wow. 



I didn't get this one but you might wanna.


I went back the next day, got a different salesperson. Way much younger and I had given it miles of thought and decided my codeword wasn't actually 'comfort'. Or anything resembling 'full-coverage' which seems to me to be like having your bosoms individually gift wrapped. She knew exactly of what I spoke and probably like 25 minutes later and I think-another three dollars and change? I was done. 

I saw Faye on the way out and I apologized(because apparently that's the way I currently roll)and she completely waved me off along the lines of: this is how the game is played. 

Oh thinks me. I didn't know. 








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