During a family vacation with my sister Rachel and our kids, I found myself knee-deep in laundry, separating our clothes. “Do you have a nude bra?” I asked her casually.
“Ew, no! That’s for grandmas,” she replied with a laugh.
“Hey now,” I defended, “I have the same bras you do—I even got that push-up style you recommended.”
“In beige?” she chortled.
“Beige goes with everything!” I retorted, tossing the bra onto my pile of jeans and t-shirts—nothing too glamorous, just practical choices.
In the back of my closet, remnants of my pre-kids life lingered—like the sleek gold dress I bought for a Bali trip, when I dared to wear less and slathered on DEET like it was perfume. There’s also a green wool skirt that my tailor once gushed over, only to later frown at our hemline negotiations. Those pieces might not fit anymore—physically or in terms of my lifestyle. But at least I can indulge in nice underwear!
I decided to order some bras online from the Gap Body store. When they arrived, they were stuffed with tissue paper to maintain their shape. My husband Alex joked as he threw one of the cups at me, “Aren’t you supposed to keep those in?”
They fit alright, but I wanted to exchange them for something a little less ordinary. However, those bras lingered in my closet until I finally made a trip to the mall, which coincidentally aligned with a visit from my dad, who insisted on tagging along.
“I need to pick up some underwear and return a bra,” I informed him as we drove. “Got any errands?”
“I’ll join you,” he replied, shrugging off the notion.
Divorced for thirty years and on the verge of retiring from his long-held business, my father is a man guided by faith, always carrying rosary beads and prayer cards of saints in his pockets. My parents, high school sweethearts, had seven children together before their split when I was just ten. I remember my weekend visits to his house, packed with pajamas and a change of clothes, with my bras hidden deep in my bag, alongside my beloved copy of Forever.
Bras represented my growing femininity—something my dad and I never discussed. He’s likely avoided the trauma of bra shopping for all seventy years of his life, but here we were.
Once at the mall, he followed me into Gap Body, his expression already betraying a hint of discomfort. I had picked out a specific style online, so when a young clerk named Chris approached with enthusiasm, I tried to keep it low-key.
“I’m looking for the satin hipster,” I said softly, but Chris wasn’t shy. “Thong or panties?” he called out, practically beaming.
“Just—the panties,” I responded, glancing quickly at my father.
Chris led me through the store as my dad trailed behind, his face a mix of confusion and embarrassment.
“Low-rise. Ultra low-rise!” Chris exclaimed, gesturing to the display. I scanned the options—white, gray, beige. My sister’s words echoed in my mind. “Do you have anything more colorful?” I asked.
“We don’t.” He smiled apologetically. “Were you hoping for lace?”
“Um, just something with a little more pizzazz?” I said, sensing my dad shifting beside me. “You know what, I’ll just order them online,” I decided. “I have a bra to return, though.”
Chris held the bra up at the register. “Cinnamon red! Ultra plunge!” he announced, and I glanced at my dad again, who finally gestured toward the exit and stepped outside.
The drive home was quiet until my dad broke the silence. “You must be getting back at me for all those times I embarrassed you as a kid,” he said.
When we got home, my husband Alex asked about our day. “My daughter took me to the unmentionables store,” Dad said with a serious face. “You know, with all the women’s underwear.”
“It was just The Gap!” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes.
Yet Alex nodded in understanding, while my father frowned at me in that familiar way. Reduced to feeling like a rebellious teenager, I did the only thing I could think of—I blamed my sister.
In conclusion, shopping for bras with your dad can be an unexpected mix of nostalgia and awkwardness, but it’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come. Whether you’re exploring your own style or navigating family dynamics, remember that embracing your femininity can be as simple as finding the right fit. For more insights on pregnancy and home insemination, check out this informative piece on intrauterine insemination.