I’m sure everyone reading this post has seen those awful magazines geared towards women near the checkout counter at the grocery store. You know, the ones that have article with titles like 101 Ways To Please Him or Eating Disorders Are A Problem, But Here Are 13 Ways To Lose Weight?
I imagine that a title similar the one I’m using for this post has graced the cover of a crappy magazine or two. In magazine land, one’s bra choice might mean that they’re destined for a lifetime of solitude or that they’re ready to let their inner tigress run free. That’s not really the direction I’m going in with this post, though. Since my knowledge of all things feminine is pretty limited, you won’t be getting any insight from me on what a red satin bra, with pink lacy polka dots, that opens in the front means.
There is one thing my bra says about me, though, and that is where I’m at with my day. There comes a point in my day when I’m done. I won’t go out to the store for milk, I won’t run out to the mailbox or get anything out of the car, and I certainly won’t take a walk around the neighborhood. That point in my day is marked by The Removing of the Bra.
Bra on? I’ll do things. I might be exhausted and not want to do things, but I’ll go out and do whatever it is.
Bra off? Send Daddy out or tell the kids “maybe tomorrow.” (And we all remember how Maybes go, right?)
Occasionally I’ll be having a bad mood day or a day in which I’m recovering from being around people too much, and the bra doesn’t go on at all. If it isn’t on by 11:00 in the morning, there’s a good chance it ain’t going on at all.
Whenever the kids ask for things — like going back to town for doughnuts or anything else that requires leaving the house — I always tell them that my bra is off. I no longer have to explain myself, as they’ve learned that means mama ain’t going nowhere.
And, no, I can’t put my bra back on once I’ve taken it off for the day. Doing so would cause the moon and stars to become misaligned, and that might just cause the end of the world those nutty prophets have been predicting to happen. That, or maybe I’m just so lazy that throwing a strap over each shoulder and reaching back to do the clasp is just too much. Either way, for the safety of all, it’s best I let sleeping bras lie.
Recently Baby Girl wanted me to go get something out of the car. After telling me that her Daniel Tiger toy was in the car, she asked, “Is your bra on, Mommy?”
Way to cut to the chase, Baby Girl! I wonder how a guest would react to one of my kids asking about the state of my brassiere. I’m guessing we’ll find out soon enough. (The bra was on, in case you’re wondering, so I was able to retrieve the toy.)
Do you have a weird thing like, “The bra is off”? that only members of your home would understand?