Yesterday, I had the distinct pleasure of taking a little lass to go bra shopping for the first time. Now, any woman knows that this ordeal, first time around, or maybe the hundredth time can be overwhelming. There are the sizes, the colors, the cuts – the daunting choices consume a person in the lingerie department.
Now take the adult version, skim it down to say, tweenish, and you are in a department store that isn’t blessed with “just for girls” sections. We find this lovely young lady who assists us with sizes, etc and then shows us the dressing room while she goes in search of a few other “better”, more comfortable choices.
My daughter is clutching the feminine wear like it is a top secret document as she awaits her turn in the dressing room. As the stall door opens, a boy about her age exits and she looks to the ground and rushes inside. I stand outside the door, adjacent to the room giving her some privacy.
It is taking a few minutes and I ask, “Are you okay?”
She replies with “I’m fine.” and I step back into the main portion of the store. The ever helpful employee returns, and with a voice not quite a whisper, announces, “We didn’t have that bra in black but we have these ones.” She hands me the newer styles and I think nothing of it, shoving them under the door to my daughter. She snatches them like hot cakes, mumbling thanks.
After we finished, we proceed to checkout – new feminine undergarments in my grip now. And who waits on us? A young male, likely not much beyond 18-20 years of age. My daughter’s eyes grew wide with embarrassment as he took her garments, touching each tiny article of clothing and placing them in the bag.
When we left the store, she looked at me and said, “Well that was embarrassing!”
I found it rather amusing but to ease her pain, I simply smiled and said, “Yep.”
Oh to tell her this is only the beginning!