I decided that I was ready. The swelling has gone down significantly on my breasts from the surgery and I thought that purchasing something really nice -- while getting fitted properly -- would kick off my weekend in a great way.
I scooted out of work with enough time to stop by this uber-chic European lingerie store downtown. I've been there before (years ago) but I've never ever purchased anything there. In the past, it was primarily because they didn't carry my size. (The sales lady told me that once when I walked in with sort of a sneer on her face... ahhh... don't you just love being snubbed when you want to spend your money?) But also because the prices are ... well devastatingly outrageous.
This isn't the run of the mill Victoria's Secret shop that you find at every mall across the nation. This store... is "special" (she says with a whisper of awe and a lilt of glee). I won't put the name on this post because I have NO plans to direct any traffic their way. But its still a really nice store.
You know how some people are fascinated by the store windows in New York during the Christmas holidays? This store's window fascinates me the same way. I've always been a tall girl. And for a good portion of my adult life, I've been a pretty thick girl (not fat...not that there's anything wrong with that). So, I'm accustomed to seeing things sometimes that I know are not or have not been designed with someone like me in mind. I'm pretty cool with that I suppose. I've always had a secret wish to either be much taller -- so I can completely stand out of the crowd -- or to be much smaller, so that I can be instantly thought of as sweet and petite. (There's a level of feminism that petite women seem to have locked down, that is rarely shown or thought of when you're a larger and/or taller woman)
But like I said, this store FASCINATES me with its window display. The lingerie in the window is always so very beautiful and colorful. It looks ephemeral... like its as light as an angel's feather. The lingerie never looks trashy or cheap or hooker-ish. It always gives me the sighs... and I look at the window and think... "if I can get something from there I will FEEL like a lady and it will probably radiate outwardly and guys will treat me more like a girl and less like one of the guys".
Yes. That long azz sentence runs through my mind whenever I see the window of this store. Right now, I'm closing my eyes and envisioning the beautiful pink and white lacy set that was in the window the other day. (sigh) So, like I was saying. On Friday afterwork, I felt that because I was in the mindset of reclaiming and celebrating my dreams I should go to this store and feel like a lady for a little while. I walked in and looked around briefly and asked to be fitted. I explained to the ladies that I was a breast cancer survivor and I had no idea what size my new breasts were. Interestingly enough I was not wearing a bra when I walked in their shop -- something that seemed quite distasteful to those two little ladies. (laugh) Whatever.
I went into the dressing room and the older lady came in with her measuring tape. I will give her credit. She did not gasp when I slid my dress straps down. Her face did not reflect any shock or surprise. I figured out later on that she was uncomfortable with my nipple-less noobie. (noobie = new boobie) First of all, my complaints and concerns that my boobies were small were wrong. I am a respectable F cup (that's a DDD in the US). So, that made me feel a bit better. Secondly, (and I knew this part) there are some gorgeous items for ladies my size. (smile)
My sales assistant brought me two or three very nice but quite non-fancy bras to start with. She chose them because they were smooth and could be worn under all types of outfits without showing. I tried them on and they were definitely prettier than the lounging bras I've been wearing while I'm healing...but they weren't "pretty pretty" like the display items. I liked them but not enough to purchase.
I asked her to bring me something "pretty pretty" preferably an exotic color or something with embroidered flowers... I wanted something that when I closed my eyes to remember what I had on under my clothes... I would smile. I want that secret "my lingerie ROCKS" smile to be a permanent fixture on my face.
She brought me the prettiest lavender lace bra that I've ever seen. It is simply gorgeous. Almost too pretty to wear actually. And I asked for matching panties -- though I suspected that they didn't have them in my size. I was wrong. She found something that worked. It is so pretty. I purchased the lavender set and also a beautiful black lacy bra -- I think every woman should have one black bra that is so lacy and frilly that she snickers every time she thinks of it and her lover can't wait to catch a glimpse of it when she is dressing or undressing. I think that should be an adult rite of passage. Anyhoo...
I get to the register, heady with cherubs and hummingbirds dancing around my head... (like I'm in a cartoon or something) and I realized that I was overspending but I didn't dare stop myself. This was more than just buying some bras and panties to get through the day or the week. This was another step for me to becoming more girly and lady-like. I was not going to refuse myself the opportunity to feel great.
So I handed my card and made my purchase. Did I mention that this place was tres snooty? When the receipt printed, there were TWO places to sign. One, the regular signature to approve the purchase. And the other was a signature line stating that you read the return policy and agreed to it.
*blink blink* Whatever...
I was soooo heady and happy that I laughed to myself and signed... twice. (shrug) And I jetted off to the other side of town for happy hour. Now, my evening did not go as planned but it was still good. I was happy with my investment and in a good frame of mind. I showed my new purchases to a couple of female friends at the bar and they sort of made me question my purchase. They thought my items were pretty until they saw the pricetag and then they were shocked that anyone would spend that much on underwear. Especially if you could get something equally as pretty a lot cheaper.
Their thoughts and comments stuck with me for the rest of the night and I started to wonder if I just had FOOL written on my forehead. And then I remembered an email (that has circulated for many years) and I remembered that my purchase wasn't about being appropriate but it was a chance for me to appreciate myself.
The reality for me right now is that no one will probably see me in these beautiful lacy garments anytime soon. But I know that when I do choose to wear them, I will be as pretty on the inside of my clothes as I hope I appear on the outside. I know that now when people look at me they don't see a breast cancer survivor. They just see a woman, walking down the street or riding the subway. I don't even wear my breast cancer pins anymore. I am simply... Nicole again. But on the inside, I am truly different -- even with two boobs again and I feel that I have to really honor that feminine spirit within. Truly bow down and respect what it means to be a lady, what it means to be a girl, what it means to be feminine. I know men don't usually think this... but its hard being a girl today. It is extra hard being a breast cancer survivor girl trying to reclaim her "sexy swagger" while sporting one nipple-less noobie. Its a tall order and whew... sometimes I just am not up to the challenge. But I realized when my sales assistant kept clucking about hiding my scar within the cup of my bra... that I am DAMN PROUD of my scar. No, its not pretty but so what. Like I told her, never mind that scar what matters is that I'm here. And if that scar wasn't there... I would not be here.
My first instinct was to take my tissue-paper wrapped lingerie and bury it in the back of my lingerie drawer. Pull it out every now and then to fondle and appreciate it but really never wear it. But... I decided that I'm going to wear it one day this week. Because life is too short to hold out for someday... today is someday. Below is the email that I thought of immediately after having regrets about spending so much on three little items. I hope that it sticks with you and reminds you... today is your someday.
[A forwarded email...]
My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. "This," he said, "is not a slip. This is lingerie." He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip.
It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached. "Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion." He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me. "Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion."
I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had done without realizing that they were special.
I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savor, not endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.
I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event-such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My theory is, if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going friends. "Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now. I'm not sure what my sister would have done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called family members and a few close friends. She might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favorite food. I'm guessing-I'll never know.
It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in touch with-someday. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write-one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives.
And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath truly is...a gift.
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