Please forgive me if you are one of the many people I’ve already shared this story with. I’ve told it, and re-told it, and re-told it again, and it’s still hilarious to me, so I decided it was worth sharing.
I was on the other side of town for an appointment on a day off last week, and Harp’s Lingerie Store in Birmingham just happened to be on my way home. Now, I don’t wear lingerie because my entire life I’ve preferred a good old-fashioned flannel nightgown straight out of Little House on the Prairie, but that store has the best bras ever, anywhere. Trust me. If you really need a good bra that fits correctly, makes you feel pretty, and doesn’t leave you with a stage 2 pressure ulcer at the end of eight hours or have an underwire with the potential to puncture a lung, then you need a visit to Harp’s Lingerie in Birmingham, Michigan. I’ll post the address below.
If talking about bras offends you, get over it. It’s October – Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Check your ta-ta’s, and go get a pretty new bra.
Okay so, I had to drive up and down the street like five times before I finally found a parking spot, and then I had to walk half a mile to the store in a new pair of Clark Shoes that I thought were comfortable until I was on my way back to the car. A week later I still have the blister on my heel, and I’ll never wear the shoes again. If anyone wants a pair of cute little size 8-1/2 tan colored leather loafers, hit me up – they’re all yours.
So here’s how a trip to Harp’s works. You don’t get to shop. You get escorted into a dressing room with a saleswoman who likely is in her 80’s or 90’s. “Okay honey, strip from the waist up, and I’ll be right back,” she says, and then adds, “Don’t be embarrassed. The girls are my specialty!”
Okayyyyy. It’s been about four years since my last Harp’s trip, but I’m remembering – nothing has changed! And I was laughing to myself. That darling little woman came back in, measured me in every direction, and then asked, “wire? or no wire?” to which I responded, “Listen. I don’t really care. Just find me something that makes me look like I’m about a size 7,” and laughed.
She stood back, lost the smile on her face, looked at me in all her seriousness with her hands on her hips and said, “Listen lady. You came in here for a new bra – not for plastic surgery! Now… wire? or no wire?” I nearly doubled over choking on an unexpected laugh.
After trying on a few, I settled for a couple of them, and got dressed. When I headed toward the cash registered she pushed me back into the dressing room and very kindly lectured me. “You are a beautiful woman. And you need to embrace yourself, and your looks, and your personality, and everything that is you! Stop wasting TIME worrying about what size you wear!”
And I walked out of that store wearing a new bra (and the girls looking UP instead of DOWN for a change), and felt pretty until I realized my heel was bleeding…. When I got about a block away from my car, I took my shoes off and strutted my NOT-size-7 self to my car and went and enjoyed an afternoon with my grand kiddos.
Thank God for 80-something-year-old’s and their willingness to share some simple wisdom. And thank God for Harp’s Lingerie and for new bras, and little old ladies who specialize in “the girls!”
Laughter. It’s the best medicine.