Suburban Goddess

Once a year I make the dreaded trek down to the local mall to replace the most cherished of my undergarments; my bras. This is only a yearly event because the price of a standard over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder borders on ridiculous. I go once, stock up, and put the experience out of my mind until the following year. It’s traumatic on a few different levels because 1) I’m not really a “mall” girl, but Victoria’s Secret is the one place I can find a non-itchy bra, 2) it reminds me how completely out of touch I am with today’s fashion trends, and 3) the “retail assistants” at Victoria’s Secret would make Hitler proud.

Immediately upon entering the store, I am “greeted” by a svelte, trendy twenty-something dressed in black.
“Can I help you?” Cold, condenscending and clever. Just like I remembered.

“Yes,” I reply, “I need a demi-bra, padded, no lace.” I answer. She immediately turns on her heel and heads to the back. I assume I’m supposed to follow, so I meekly push my child’s stroller through the maze of scanitlly clad manequin torsos towards the back where the “retail assistant” is waiting with an impatient look on her face. “What color?”

“Nude & black, please.” She immediately thrusts two bras at me without asking my size. I looked at the tag; 36B.
“I just had a baby,” I offered, hoping for a C cup. Her gaze did not waver; there was no room for discussion.
I took the bras and headed for the dressing room. As I closed the door, I was greeted by a full length mirror; more trauma. Tyra Banks stared over my shoulder.

I was happy to find that the 36 did not accentuate the dreaded “back fat.” (girls know what I’m talking about). And since childbirth, the B part filled in nicely. All-in-all, not too traumatic. Tyra looked over my shoulder condescendingly.

“You’ll never look like this, sweetheart,” she sneered in her trademark model pout. I looked down at the extra 20 pounds, then back at Tyra.

“Yeah, well let’s see what YOU look like after you marry a man addicted to Mexican food and pop a kid or two out. Bet your boobs won’t be so perky THEN, sister!” And with that, I dropped a kiss on my infants’ head before I wheeled her out of the dressing room, leaving Tyra all alone in her sad little dressing room.

Some things are better than beauty.

I hate New Years resolutions, simply because once a year, every year, I’m reminded that I’m a huge failure at something. So then I have to make an effort to get better, and usually sometime around mid-March I start to slack, and somewhere around June I’ve forgotten totally until next year, where the vicious cycle begins all over.

But even worse than that, is when others feel the need to tell you what their resolutions are, and then you realize, “Damn, I don’t do that either,” and it, too becomes part of the yearly cycle of failures.

My neighbor told me, “I resolve to lose weight (check), yell at my kids less (um, not me YET), and floss every single day (damn, me too!)” So now flossing becomes a temporary obsession, so much so that I have to go out IMMEDIATELY and buy one of those flossers with a handle and a six month supply of refills. Considering I already have a problem getting to work on time, I don’t think my boss will be any more sympathetic when I smile sheepishly and offer, “But I had to floss for five minutes… oral hygeine is very important to me…”

In which I am sure the reply would be something like, “Then perhaps you should think about LESS Starbucks!”

I came to a realization as I danced through the land mines that inevitably explode when you get family together for the holidays. I found myself adjusting my beliefs and attitudes depending on who I was talking to, and it disturbs me now because I realize, I should just be myself.

I’m sure that everyone has a relative that you KNOW, you just need to keep your mouth shut. You will ALWAYS offend them in some way. They will ALWAYS critisize you in some way. You will NEVER be right. They know EVERYTHING. And they are never, never, never in the slightest way hypocritical. Oh no, because that would just make everything they preach completely irrelevant. Do you know this person? Do you recognize them in your family? Do you have one too?

I have a completely different personality around these relatives. It is amazing what lengths you will go to preserve peace in your family. How you will almost bite your tongue off, how you will watch others squirm and be selfishly grateful that thank God, it’s not you. How you will stand by uncomfortably and watch someone else endure a tirade without opening your mouth to save them. I will stand up for perfect strangers in public, but with family, you just keep your mouth shut. It’s better that way. Because in the end, you LOVE these people. They are a part of you. If you ruin a perfect stranger’s day, it doesn’t really matter. If you ruin a relative’s day, they will return the favor for the rest of your life….