As Luck Will Have It

383-roll-the-dice_800x6002“Let’s go this way.”

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”


“What’s what?”

Sigh. “I don’t know.”

This was a conversation I overheard this weekend between a nurse and an older woman resident at the Nursing Facility where my brother lives. Like most residential facilities, the people who live there show a range of health, abilities and lucidity. There is another woman who likes to sit in the hallway to watch visitors come and go, and frequently asks “Could someone bring me some toast?”

The staff at this facility are amazing, caring and positive people. It is a clean and pleasant environment. And yet, none of us want to end up living in a facility like it in our later years — even though the odds are good that some day we will. We’d all like to stay healthy and independent right up until our last day on earth. But of course there’s no way for any of us to be able to predict what our senior years will be like. One of my BFF’s is currently trying to cope with the fact that her father’s dementia is progressing rapidly. She and her mother have had to move him to a VA hospital. When she visits, he does not always know who she is. Another BFF’s mother has multiple health concerns, including having to endure dialysis. She has some good days with a clear mind and less pain, other days she’s loopy and miserable.

For those of us real women in our mid-life years, interacting with the next generation is like looking into a mirror of the future… and honestly it scares the heck out of us. Of course, I have a lot I still want to do and experience, so I’m hopeful that I won’t have to take a premature exit from this earth. I’d really like to be lucky enough to grow old.   It’s just the unknown of how those “old” years may shape up that has us on pins and needles.

My girlfriend and I recently enjoyed a beautiful sunny day roaming around a favorite annual arts & crafts fair. As we were getting ready to get on the shuttle bus from the parking area, we saw three women who were likely in their 70’s, also preparing to visit the fair. They were armed with big tote bags to carry their treasures, and other bags to carry anything else they may need for the afternoon. Each had on typical classic baggy oversized floral tshirts, shorts that hung to their knees, and grey hair clipped back with hair pins because it was a hot day out. They did not move quickly, but they were clearly happy to be together. My gf and I said to each other “you know that is us in about twenty years.” Although we giggled at the time, in reality I hope that IS us in the future. I hope that we will still be able to get out and about and enjoy fun outings together.

Of course, we all wish we could win the age lottery and be among the minority of seniors who seem resistant to infirmities and ailments. I have close family friends in their 80’s who still hike, play tennis, go boating, and host family and friends on a daily basis. They still drive from Florida to Maine twice a year. They are amazing, and I think to myself “when I grow up, I want to be like them.”

It makes me wonder. How do we roll the age dice? Who’s to say whether we’ll end up needing a nurse’s help to walk down a hallway while wondering why, or if we’ll end up climbing mountains in our later days?   Sure, health history and heredity have a lot to do with it. But there’s so much that seems to be up to chance, like some kind of geriatric game of roulette. Why does cancer, heart disease, Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s hit some of us and skip others?   Which of us get to be the lucky ones with sharp minds and limited aches and pains?   We just have to wait and see.

Since none of us have a crystal ball for the aged, we can only prepare ourselves for whatever may come. The best we can possibly hope for, no matter what, is to have moments of joy in every day. We can train for this by doing our best now to help the older generations experience moments of happiness, no matter how big or small. Share a smile, a laugh, a story, or make someone’s day just a bit easier – even if five minutes later they won’t remember it.

Then some day, if we are lucky, there will be someone there to do something nice for us.

Like bring us a piece of toast.


Posted in age, assisting, family, Health, Helping others, real women, Relationships, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fit to Print?


Ugh. Really with this?

I’m a smorgasbord kind of girl when it comes to news. I watch some local tv news each morning, then catch a few minutes of the Today Show. I listen to the radio on the way to work, and throughout the day like many others I get bits and pieces of “news” from a variety of online sources – via push notifications, apps, websites, social media, you name it, there are about a gazillion ways to get daily information.

Some of the news is national and fairly reliable, from places like CNN, the networks or BBC. Local news is generated from our local affiliated stations, blogs and word of mouth. Then there’s entertainment news and goofy stuff.

From time to time I will browse the highlights of “news” from sources like Yahoo. It is just like reading the headlines on tabloids while waiting in line at the grocery store, but electronic. And, just like I rarely pick up and actually open a National Inquirer, I rarely will click into a Yahoo headline to read the article. Scrolling through is enough. And why do I enjoy this? Because if I have to hear one more story about Hillz or Trump, I will puke. At least these sources are sharing something different.

Today as I scrolled through, I saw the following important news items, all with variable legitimacy:

  • Prince William and Kate are planning a 3rd baby for Christmas
  • Will the Big Bang Theory continue past season 10?
  • Are Keith Urban and Nicole calling it quits?
  • Husband Puts Whiney Wife for Sale on Ebay
  • Obama Greeted Warmly in Kenya
  • Forbes’ Releases list of Highest Paid Models

As I meandered my way through the list, wondering who out there really cares about Miss Michigan’s jumpsuit, I was reminded of why I started this Real Women blog four years ago (wow, really? Four years?).   I was standing in front of a rack of women’s magazines, looking for something to browse while traveling. I could find nothing that interested me, nor anything I could identify with. And they all looked and sounded the same. The women on the covers were all flawlessly beautiful. The articles promised things like “Get a flat tummy in 3 days with these 4 simple exercises”, or “Mind-blowing sex secrets revealed”, or “Find these amazing designer shoes for only $300.”   Then there was my favorite: a great way to feel woefully inadequate by reading about some woman who gave up her six-figure income to clime Mount Kilimanjaro. At the time I remember wondering “where are the stories for us real women? Where are the articles that we can really relate to, and that will make us feel better about ourselves?”

So I took pen to paper, or rather keyboard to blog, with a desire to share real, normal, we-aren’t-perfect-but-we-rock stories. Since then, nothing has really changed in the world of women’s magazines and entertainment news. All of those useless articles are there, as are the perfect women on the covers, and we still see headlines about people or activities that truly have no effect on our lives.

In that spirit, and in thinking about the Yahoo headlines, I present a few headlines of our own:

  • The Joys of a Vasectomy
  • Wife Wants to Put Hubby Out by the Curb, But No One Will Pick Him Up
  • Woman is Warmly Welcomed at The Grocery Store
  • Making Friends with Your Muffin Top
  • $5 Flip Flops – Who Cares if they Fall Apart in One Season?
  • Balancing the Checkbook: Deciding Between Paying for Electricity or Getting the Car Fixed
  • Throwing Together Dinner with 5 Ingredients in Less than 30 Minutes
  • Three Outfits Under $50 That Will Hide Your Back Fat

I have to believe that if I saw these headlines, I’d click to read the article, or pick up the magazine to take home, or turn up the volume on the TV. So much content, such little time.

Perhaps some day, if I win that elusive lottery, I’ll publish that magazine for all of us Real Women. In the meantime, keep scrolling what’s out there. I’ll be here when you need to share a dose of reality.






Posted in beauty, communication, Entertainment, Kids, real style, real women, shopping, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

When the Bell Tolls

classroom-desksTonight my husband and I rushed home from work, choked down a quick snack, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed out to our semiannual tradition: School Open House. Our son is now a Sophomore in High School. Which means, give or a take a few scheduling conflicts, we have attended approximately a dozen of these events. Not counting any that we attended in the past for my stepsons.

When our children are young, the Open Houses are opportunities to see the creative and fun community areas in which they play and interact, have time to talk with the teachers, and admire the artwork or stories on the walls created by young minds. As our kids get older and venture into high school, the open houses are more about trying to not get lost as we hustle through an abbreviated version of our child’s typical schedule, receive an extra copy of the class syllabus and hear the rushed presentation by teachers of what they hope to accomplish for the semester.

There are a few other guaranteed experiences at each Open House, for which I have a few recommendations on how they could be improved, thus encouraging better parental attendance:

  1. It will be stiflingly hot. It does not matter whether it is the Fall or Spring Open House. The interior temperature of the classrooms will be approximately 95 degrees. Idea: Hand out paper fans for moms to combat hot flashes, and cold bottles of water so parents don’t feel they’ve crossed the Sahara Desert by 3rd period. I know budgets are so low that we have to donate tissues to classrooms, so perhaps a local business could donate the water. They’d have a captive yet appreciative audience viewing their logo.
  2. Oooh that smell. It doesn’t matter where you went to school, upon entering you will recognize the scent. It is that unique combination of gymnasium-cafeteria-locker room-disinfectant-chem lab-auditorium that we all remember. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, more a nostalgic essence. I suppose those few schools that have recently gone through a major renovation may have lost that built-in-the-50’s aura… the next town over from me has a swanky new multi-million dollar high school. I’ll bet it smells like flowers and sunshine in there.
  3. Bleachers and desk chairs are still uncomfortable. This is why school is for the young. Any adult over the age of 40 can last only 15 minutes in a school chair or sitting on the bleachers in the gym. Idea: Let us stand, lean, or sit in the teacher’s chairs. We aren’t being rude. We just hate the embarrassment of getting up off our seats with a groan and a limp.
  4. The teachers are getting younger. Seriously, I’ve seen a few who I’ve wondered if they are students or instructors. This of course is by no means a nod to any of us getting older. Heck no. Just because I feel a maternal need to ask if the teacher is getting enough sleep and eating right, doesn’t mean they aren’t my peers. I love asking my son at the start of the school year to describe how old he thinks each of his teachers is. He gets that “oh no I can’t possibly answer this correctly” look in his eye and says vaguely “oh, kind of your age.” If the teacher turns out to be at least 10 years younger than me, my son gets an extra cookie. Idea: Have the teachers where name tags. Helps us avoid the embarrassment of assuming they are student helpers.
  5. Valiantly attempted organization. Even with best of intentions, we can be assured of some confusion. For example, there was some bewilderment as to whether the Open House started at 6:00, 6:15, or 6:30. We aimed for somewhere in between, and followed signs to the cafeteria to pick up our schedules. Which weren’t there yet. Soon a man came hustling in with armfuls of papers, which were then stacked in alpha order on tables around the room. Parents then had to thumb through to find their child’s name. Not exactly efficient. Good news is they included a map of the school on the back. Bonus points for that.
  6. Social hour. If you’ve been in town for a few years, you’ll see lots of familiar faces –the parents of your kid’s friends and club/sports associates. If you are new in town, it is a sea of faces who all seem familiar with each other and not you. Either way, there are hearty greetings in the halls, and quick jokes about “when I went to school here.” And we all have one thing in common: we all look weary. Especially those parents with more than one child in the school, trying to split themselves in two to get to all classrooms. There’s no time to stop and chat – we are trying to fit an abbreviated school day into two hours. So most of the conversations go like this: “Hey! How are ya! Good to see you – gotta go find the Geometry room!” Idea: I’d like to suggest wine and cheese stations in the hallways, but I suppose being a school, alcohol is not permitted. So perhaps coffee and snacks. Fuel to get us through, and areas to pause and be social.

Tonight as we thanked the teachers and headed out to the fresh air, we spoke with a couple of other parents about the lack of attendance at this whirlwind information gathering activity. I get it, we are all busy, and have all put in long days. But the teachers and administration put in extra hours to make these Open Houses happen, and this brief journey gives us a window into the day to day lives of our kids. It is worth the extra effort to be there for that reason alone.

Although…I’ll bet we’d fill the place if they could offer wine stations and a drawing to win a year’s worth of school lunches for our child.  Just something for the suggestion box.



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Challenging Stuff

camping gear“That’s all you need in life, a little place for your stuff. That’s all your house is- a place to keep your stuff…. Sometimes you leave your house to go on vacation. And you gotta take some of your stuff with you. Gotta take about two big suitcases full of stuff, when you go on vacation. You gotta take a smaller version of your house. It’s the second version of your stuff.” – George Carlin

George had it right. We all have stuff. Lots of it. At least I know that I do. And, like he said, sometimes we go on a trip. And we need to take some of that stuff.

I’ve had reason to travel lately, and with that comes the challenge of how to consolidate the amount of stuff I invariably want to take with me. Because I always want to take too much. I tend to think that I need a few extra changes of clothes, you know – just in case. In case there’s a change of plans, or the weather shifts, or… who knows. And then there are the pairs of shoes. Yes, I used the plural: pairs. I take sneakers and workout clothes too – again, just in case the opportunity presents itself. Of course there are the other bits and pieces, like magazines, books, my laptop….just in case I have downtime.

I’ve been trying to cut back. Really, I have. I know there are other R.W.’s out there who have similar struggles with the whole packing thing. Yet a few of you have it down to a science. I have one BFF who can literally travel to Europe for two weeks with one tiny bag. It is a mystery to me how she does it, and I know I will never master that level of efficiency. Instead I have set a more obtainable goal. I have a 3-day business trip coming up, which will require travelling by air. My goal is to fit everything I need into a carry-on bag. Sounds like a no brainer, doesn’t it? People do it all the time. Easy, right? Yeah, unless you are me.   Usually I prefer to pack my too-much stuff in to a larger bag and check it so I don’t have to schlep it around with me. But in this case, I’m going to go for it in the spirit of simplicity. Well, at least I will try.

When we travel by car, I have much more freedom to over-pack. After all, the only restriction is that everything has to fit in the vehicle. I have gotten really good at filling the trunk of my car, or the back of my husband’s van. I remember as a young girl, sitting entranced at the kitchen table watching the Avon Lady visit with my mom. She had the coolest satchel of products (a place for her stuff) with ingenious little compartments to hold everything. She could fit an amazing amount of fascinating items in that bag. When I’m packing the car, I imagine I’m the Avon Lady. Except instead of lipsticks and compacts, I’m finding space for bags and outerwear and anything else that seems important to bring along.

This weekend we are going camping. Ahhh… images of the simple life fill our heads. Just us, a tent, a campfire… and a whole lotta STUFF. I’ve got bins of cookware, utensils, flashlights, bug spray, and towels. I’ve got a large water container, three sleeping bags, and a couple of blow-up mattresses (there’s only so far I’ll go for “roughing it”.) There’s the cooler for cold food, and bags of other food. And of course the tent and our clothing. There are separate bags of activities and snacks for the car ride. The dog is coming with us, so guess what – he has stuff too. He’s got his own travel bag for food, toys, his leash, poop bags, his water bowl, and treats. I realize the irony that spending two weeks in Europe, even for me, would require less stuff than three days of camping.

George Carlin understood all of our needs to pack so much when we travel. As he said, “even though you’re far away from home, you start to get used to it, you start to feel okay, because after all, you do have some of your stuff with you.”

That’s really the whole point I suppose, of carrying our stuff around with us. It is a matter of comfort and peace of mind. Some of us apparently need more comfort than others.





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Gold Medal Reality

hurdleAh, the twists, the turns, the speed, the jumps, the split-second decisions… could be the Olympics, or could be a day in the life of the average woman.

Ok, I suppose that’s a stretch. I mean, we’ve all seen Simone fly through the air, Katey speed through the water and Ashley leap and run. Let’s face it, they aren’t normal. Kind of superhuman as a matter of fact.

We watch them, fascinated, riveted to our seats, watching them soar – and we feel very…average. Un-athletic. Possibly even inferior.   These are extreme athletes who have devoted their lives to their sport, spending 365 days a year in the gym, or the pool, or the track. Going above and beyond to get to miraculous levels of skill and fitness and break world records. We feel good if we can get in a power walk at lunch time.

After a couple weeks of being pulled into the Olympic spirit, I think we all need to take a moment to reconsider our own greatness. Very few of us will ever get even close to the abilities of those competitors. But we have our own events that we master every day with style, skill, agility and strength. With that in mind, I present my recommendations for a few sports in the Real Women Olympics:

  • The Pet Hurdle. We love our domestic critters, our furry family members – and clearly they love us. They show us their devotion by being under foot All. The. Time. Simply walking from the bedroom to the bathroom, or making dinner in the kitchen requires nimble footwork to walk over and around these living, breathing obstacles. Extra points for mastering the trickiest move of all: stepping backwards when a silent pet has decided laying immediately behind their human is a really good idea.
  • Ready In Ten. This is the impressive and speedy evolution we accomplish when our family members suddenly want to go out to dinner, or a child needs to be picked up, a last minute date calls, or an unexpected work meeting is scheduled. The silver medalists in this event change from lounging in ratty sweat pants and old Tshirt, with messy hair and no makeup, to looking not only presentable, but Hot in 10 minutes or less. Extra points for doing so with only a hairbrush and lipstick.
  • Eight Hour Heels. The competitors we watch on TV have specialized, custom designed athletic shoes for their sport. That’s nothing compared to the stamina required to navigate life and maintain posture, style, and energy in heels for eight to ten hours a day, or for special events.   Sure, we could wear sneakers. But we want to look good while we conquer our worlds. Remember Ann Richard’s famous observation: “Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”  Extra points for walking and standing a minimum of three hours in totally adorable shoes.
  • Nutrition with Five or Less. The Challenge: A hungry family. A tight time frame. Only five seemingly unrelated and useless ingredients available in the fridge. The successful R.W. Olympian in this category can make dinner in less than half an hour using such items as peanut butter, pasta, a carrot stick and bread crumbs. Extra points if the family actually likes the resulting meal enough to ask for it again in the future.
  • Grocery Slalom. This event is not for the faint of heart. Special skills and experience are needed to rapidly and efficiently wheel the cart down aisles around obstacles like the elderly, crying babies, and spilled produce, all while comparing prices and nutritional information to get the best cost and value. The true expert in this event not only knows where items are located by aisle number and shelf level, but writes her list in the order of the store. Extra points for completing a shopping list in under an hour.

And finally, our signature event: The Multi-Tasking Scurry. An R.W. is given a minimum of a dozen activities to be successfully accomplished – all while beating the clock. Such activities may include taxi driver duties, laundry fulfillment, creating a perfect work presentation, treating a sick family member, taking the pet to the vet, cleaning the bathroom, getting the oil changed, balancing the checkbook and coloring her hair. Extra points given if no injuries are reported and no one becomes hangry.

The key difference between the R.W. Olympics and those we’ve been watching take place in Rio, is that in our events, no medals are rewarded, and they aren’t over in a couple of weeks. None of us will be on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Our names will not be known around the world. We will not break any world records. But if we are lucky, we are appreciated. And our reward is collapsing into bed at night and knowing that we have the skill, the strength, the abilities and the desire to get up the next morning and do it all over again. 365 days a year.

We are Golden.

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Now You See Me

mystery womanI was enjoying a pedicure at the nail salon. There were several of us lined up in our footbath chairs, doing the salon version of elevator etiquette — a possible quick simple nod to your neighbor, but no direct eye contact. When it came time for the technician to scuff the bottom of my feet, I promised her I’d do my best not to jump because I’m ticklish. The woman sitting next to me said “that’s the hardest part for me too.” We shared a chuckle and I glanced at her. She looked familiar. Like I think I knew her from somewhere in my past, but I had no clue where or what her name was. Within a couple of minutes she was on her way, and I was left to ponder “how do I know her? Or do I not know her?”

As we get older and have more life experiences, we naturally meet more and more people. So the chances of unexpected recognition are pretty high. Since many relationships are merely passing acquaintances or fade over time, we end up with SFF (Somewhat Familiar Face) Syndrome. And it drives me nuts. One glance of someone out of place and time, and I start a stream of brain history review, which is faulty at best: Old college connection? Past work associate? From the gym? (we all look a whole lot different in business attire and make up instead of workout clothes and sweaty ponytails)… Or perhaps a parent of one of my son’s past friends? A teacher from the school? Maybe even a store associate where I shop? Yikes, it could be anyone from anywhere.

The other day I was in the check-out line at Target and it happened again. The woman in front of me at the next register looked familiar. Soon I was attempting the subtle glance-without-staring thing. Eventually it came to me, I believe she may have been the mom of one of the kids in my son’s cub scout pack. He was in cub scouts nearly ten years ago. If it was her, she has changed her hair style (highly likely) and put on a bit of weight (who of us hasn’t?). But I couldn’t be sure, nor could I remember her name. And by the time I had come to this conclusion, she was long gone.

So what to do? Walk up and say “Hi, do I know you?” Or wait and see if the other person seems to recognize me and says something?  Ignore the whole thing and pretend I know no one?  I have considered what would be the worst case scenario in addressing the other person: possible awkwardness and embarrassment, or coming across like some sort of stalker with dementia.

I realize that I do the same thing with celebrities, but without the embarrassment factor. Quite regularly my husband and I may be watching a tv show or movie, and we will have a conversation like this:

“Wait, did you see that guy?”

“Which guy?”

“Wait until the camera goes back on the guy in the suit…. THERE! Him! He was in that other movie…”

“Oh, right, he looks familiar….but what the heck have we seen him in?”

“You know, it was that old movie with um… that other guy… the one about the mob….”

“Are you sure that’s him?”

“Yes, he had longer hair then…. do you remember? What was his name?”

And so the conversation will go on until FINALLY one of us will recall the other role the actor played, or even better, the actor’s name. Finally coming up with the answer feels like mastering some kind of long-involved treasure hunt, and we will sit back, spent but vindicated and proud of our intelligence.

I have one BFF who is really handy to have around when this happens, because she has an uncanny knack for remembering not just various actor’s roles, but their names, their marital status, and their kid’s names.   But for me, it is a guessing game every time.

Just the other day, I saw the preview for a movie that I’d like to catch. Again, there was a familiar face that I couldn’t quite place at first. Then I figured it out, and with great excitement mentioned it to my husband:

“I saw a preview for a movie that looks good… it has Hugh Grant and Glenn Close in it… no, wait, not Glenn Close…. Oh dang it, um…. Meryl Streep!”

“Is it a chick flick?”

“I can’t remember the name of it… maybe a chick flick, but I think you’d like it. Anyway, it took me a minute to figure out who the other actor is, but it’s the guy from Big Bang Theory..”

“Really? Which guy?”

“Um, oh, you know…. Not Raj…or Sheldon…… It’s the guy who plays Wojohowitz – no, wait, that was the name of the guy in Barney Miller.”

“Do you mean Wolowitz?”

“YES! That’s him!”

I sat back slightly exhausted “anyway… I want to see that movie….”

I have come to accept the fact that I will always suffer from SFF Syndrome, and I may as well make a game of it. Luckily, there are key people in our lives who will always be clearly and indelibly recorded in our memory banks. This morning I saw a woman who was not only our past Realtor but one of our first friends when we moved to our town nearly twenty years ago. I hustled right up to her to greet her, as I hadn’t seen her in many years. She is now 93 years old and sharp as a tack. She was happy to see me, and asked about my family – all by name. As I drove home, I thought “I want to be like her when I grow up.”

I’ll bet she never forgets a face.



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Seeking Support


“Men will never understand how joyful it makes us feel to unsnap that bra, whip it through our shirt sleeve and fling it across the room. “ — Alex Elle

It is no secret that most of us women enjoy shopping. Sure, there are a few of us out there who’d rather have a tooth pulled, or would rather stay home in our jammies and order anything we need online rather than venture out to stores. But for the rest of us, we enjoy browsing, searching, and bringing home great deals, new styles, or those impulse “must have’ purchases.

Yet even for the strongest shop-till-we-drop avid hunters, there are a few items that fall low on our priority list, those items that are no fun — and instead of enjoying the thrill of the hunt, they are the ugh-I-don’t-wanna must-do’s. Those items include swimsuits, cars, plain white shirts, and bra’s.

At one point in our youth, shopping for undergarments held more allure. I remember buying pretty, lacey, just for fun lingerie in great colors and styles, with no consideration to support or comfort. That just didn’t matter. For those of you out there in this mode, please, enjoy it. Get those great sexy styles and wear them with youthful pride. Because some day, you will only be focused on what is comfortable, whatever puts the girls back where they should be, hides back fat, and comes in beige and black.

Since having to update and replace our undergarments from time to time is about as much fun as going to the dentist, most of us put little to no effort into the process. Statistics say that 80% of women don’t wear the right bra size. Mostly because we are in a hurry and just grab something we think will work, and end up with straps that fall down, bands that constrict, wires that poke, and either extra material that gaps, or our own natural extra stuffing that overflows the containment system.

This weekend a couple of my girlfriends and I discussed the need to get new bra’s. One of my BFF’s decided to do the right thing. She took the time to travel to a true lingerie shop to be fitted. She was measured by experts and given suggestions and options. Yes, there are experts in this field. In order to do the right thing, one must cast aside any pretenses of being shy. After all, your girls are under close scrutiny. But really, for most of us more mature women, after childbirth, mammograms, and all too frequently, breast cancer treatments, being shy about our breasts is a thing of the past.   My BFF described her experience with the sales woman who clearly has been fitting women for appropriate lingerie for at least 40 years. She spoke as if she smokes a pack a day, and she had no qualms in handling my friend’s girls to get them into the correct support system. In the end, my BFF invested in a couple of perfectly fitting, high quality bra’s that bring her ta-ta’s back up to where they used to be naturally in a truly comfortable undergarment. Now, keep in mind that doing the right thing requires an investment of both time and money. But with the appropriate care, her new undergarments will be comfortably supportive for years to come.

My other BFF and I were impressed. We know she did the right thing. You would think that we would take the initiative to follow her lead. To travel to see the aging yet expert lingerie professional, and be slightly manhandled into the right bra. But no. Instead, this morning we had a spare hour in our day, and we traveled together to the local department store, coupons in hand, and within 20 minutes we had each tried on and selected two each – one beige, one black. We went with the sizes that we have each worn for recent past history. No measuring, no guessing. No assistance from a pro. Yet we both felt proud and excited that we had finally taken the time to get updates. Our new purchases felt pretty good, supportive, and comfortable enough.   Yes, we are aware that they will wear out just like the last ones did, they may or may not be the exact right fit, and their support will start to fade until at some point we will be right back in the same situation, having to shop for undergarments when we’d rather shop for shoes and handbags. And our other girlfriend will still be there in her right thing products, looking perky and supported.

For now, though, we can cross this must-purchase item off our lists. And since we are in the latter part of the summer, we can breathe another sigh of relief that we don’t have to look for swimsuits — we can continue to get by with our well-worn twelve year old one-pieces. Maybe next summer we’ll tackle that challenge. I hear there are people who can help with that kind of purchase too — maybe when the time comes I’ll seek professional advice.

Who am I kidding… I know darn well I’ll be trying on suits from the clearance rack in a dimly lit fitting room, gauging my pudge in a private mirror. Some habits die hard.




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