I never expected it to be this complicated. I always saw women as flawless diaphanous creatures floating and flitting around having effortlessly thrown themselves together five minutes before leaving the house. I had not expected this. How I found myself dressing up in women's clothes is a (more)long story. But here I was in the bedroom of some woman I didn't even know, in the house of a family that I didn't know, dressing up in her clothes. Mark was in the next room going through what seemed to be the teenage daughter's bedroom. He had different taste to me, but we were both equally sick in one way so when it came out on line what we like to do, it only made sense that we would meet up. It had started off innocently enough. Lingerie catalogues and the like but when he drunkenly suggested buying a bra and actually wearing it I could feel the excitement brewing. It was not as I expected. I had wished for softness, satin, silk. What he had showed up with was a stiff motherfucker of a thing. It would probably have launched a bomb! It even had a metal wire running under the bust areas, presumably to hold everything up. I ran my fingers over the clothes in the wardrobe and carefully selected a dress. This, in contrast to the first bra was soft and as I breathed in it's scent I could detect a light floral perfume. Deliberately I began to undress. This woman obviously had taste and money. From the neighbouring room I could hear Mark humming like he did when either very very stressed or very very happy. I was hoping it was the latter but no such luck. From the reflection in the mirror-a car in the drive.(less)
Sighing, Mellissa adjusted herself for what must have been the eightieth time today. The underwire of the basic peach bra dug sharply into her skin each time she moved, rubbing the area just below her bust raw. This was the only bra she had that hadn't been completely worn(more) out from overuse, but the poor instrument of torture was certainly on its way to the trash heap as well.
They never last. All the ones in her size are a pale peach or tan that shows up brightly in stark contrast to her own dark skin tone, or a shiny black (which is harder to find, for some reason.) She hasn't had one of any quality in quite a while.
She can't remember the last time she went into Victoria's Secret and actually found a bra that actually fit.
(Victoria's Secret is that they don't go beyond double D's without you having to pay with an arm and a leg.)(less)
the sound of this much rain becomes almost uniform. you have to really try to hear it. a whole sheet of sound. plain. each little pat of a single drop onto the pavement of the grass or the leaves or the roof or the ground or the tops of(more) cars becomes inaudible. individuals are just not. worth it i guess. bigger picture mechanisms.
little kids running around department stores hiding in the clothes racks and always carrying around their goofy smiles for no goddamn reason. unashamed. unapologetic about their happiness. why should they apologize anyway? gaps in their teeth and bright pink gums wide eyes and the emotions printed onto their weird malleable faces. something about the pattering of the rain reminds me of that kinda shit. footsteps on the tile floor, maybe. only semi-reflective, but you stare hard at the ground when you pass by the womens underwear section. strange fabric creatures and naked mannequins they know so much that we dont. always voices in my head when i was a kid. fuck them, honestly. but the underwire bras and their origami like creases the lace underwear and the colors i didnt understand; there was a whole language carved specifically for the parts of the human body i was terrified of imagining. what was under there? what exactly even fit into those things? was the color of skin the same or different were there more joints and bones and functions i would never know until i compiled the courage the audacity to ask about it? if so id never find out. its impossible. hiding in corners is my lot in life and if i cant do that then ill run around this store some more and make sure not to step on the cracks between the tiles. (less)
"No," Tara said defiantly, but looking at the little silver sliver she knew it was true. Her favorite bra was ruined. Looking up and sighing, she tried nudging the little curvy devil back into it's blue cave.
(more) She only received throbbing lines against the underside of her thumb.
She was so sure it could last another year but it's time had come. She let the garment fall to the tile below, returning to her dresser to find a inferior replacement.
8:10 a.m. and out the door, Monday morning was hitting hard from "late night with Netflix". She repeated her "three more years" mantra with every folded shirt, imagining her life after she received her degree. When she would was no longer slave to the retail vortex that paid her nothing for her too small efficiency.
"Excuse me, does this come in black?" A small white woman asked holding up a red dress-suit to her crimson red smile.
"No, we have some in blue though," Tara suggested smiling friendly enough for a morning shift.
The woman pursed her lips, "Are you sure, could you check the back?" She internalized an 'Oh no, she's one of them.'
"I put those sets out earlier today, I know we only have them in blue and red. We're a small store so we don't keep much in the back." The woman was clearly not convinced giving her a knowing smile.
"Maybe you missed some? Do you think your manager might know?" She hinted and Tara raged, wishing she could say 'I'm in college, not incompetent.'
"If you like, I can get her for you. She might be able to help you better." The woman nodded with a pleased grin that induced gas.
'Could've really used the boost today,' she thought adjusting her pink bra strap.