Okay dad. You can just go ahead and skip over reading this post because it’s about my bra. And my car. More specifically, me removing my bra while sitting in my car.
Any experienced bra wearer (namely women) knows that when a bra is comfortable, it’s COM-FORT-A-BLE! And when a bra isn’t, it’s oh-my-fricken-god-will-this-day-ever-end-so-that-I-can-take-this-stupid-thing-OFF!
Well I had one of those days today. I was at the grocery store – about four hours into my day – when it came to a point where I just couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed through the aisles like a swooping eagle on a mission and as soon as I got back to my car, I loaded the groceries into the trunk as fast as I could so that I could jump in behind the wheel and take it off. (My bra. Not the wheel.)
It was a struggle because reaching up my sleeves to grab the straps was like trying to stuff a 52 inch television up a sock.
Everyone knows that there’s a technique to doing this. One where nothing actually gets revealed. You slip a hand up a sleeve, count to three and suddenly – TA-DUM! – a bra magically appears. Like the magician’s handkerchief that mysteriously transforms into a white dove. Works like a charm when you’re wearing a short sleeve shirt – which I was not. I was wearing a long sleeve shirt. A tight, long sleeve shirt.
The whole procedure took me at least 15 minutes. When I finally stopped swearing to enjoy my moment of triumph, I noticed a man standing in front of my car. And when I say “standing in front of my car”, I mean RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY CAR. His hand was resting on my hood as he gawked. He looked as though he wanted to call his bookie to place a bet on whether I would succeed or not. He didn’t get the chance because the second I saw him, I punched down on my horn and scared the bejeezus out of him. I actually saw the lightening go through his startled body.
Then there was a three-second glare between us before he continued on his less-than-merry way to the grocery store. He was pissed at me because I’d just honked my horn at him and I was pissed at him because he was blatantly mesmerized by my little side show. And he was touching my car.
Clearly one cannot even remove one’s bra in the comfort of one’s own car anymore.