Friday, August 27, 2010


My daughter has a friend named Pookie (name changed). Pookie is a wonderful girl, a good friend, and numerous other good things, but her recent claim to fame is that she located and purchased the perfect bra.

I don't know much about those kinds of things, so I really don't know how she did it. Dumb luck or careful searching, examination, and testing of the top-rated bras in America? I really can't answer that.

What I do know is that her bra was the talk for days, as in "Pookie had on the most beautiful bra" and "Let's go to Victoria's Secret and see if we can find Pookie's bra." What I do know is that when we were down in Atlanta a couple of weekends ago, my daughter visited to Victoria's Secret down there, couldn't find it, asked about it, and was outraged with the saleswoman would not go into the back to see if they had any. It must be quite a bra.

The additional, perhaps major, mystification for me, and I'm assuming for the other males reading this is, where did everyone see Pookie's bra? It's not like my daughter and her friends hang out in locker rooms at the Y or shower together or anything else. And not only my daughter knew about it. My wife and my other daughter were equally praiseful. Other friends who came over, too.

And that's where I get even more confused. No man has ever asked me where I got my underwear. I have never asked any man, either. I don't think I even knew to want to.

The perfect bra, I assume, is the union of freedom and form, of femininity and function. Why wouldn't women want to share their wisdom, their discoveries on the subject.

But men lack that kind of freedom. We cannot say to each other, "Hey, Bruce, I really like the way those grippers fit you. Where did you get them?"

Bruce: "I got them at Target. They were on sale. If you're thinking about going out to get some, let me know and I'll ride along. I can point out to you which ones fit me the best. They also have a great selection of both white and patterned."

"Cool, thanks."

And then a few weeks later, Bruce: "Wow, I see you took my advice. Those are so right for you."

"Yeah, I'm really proud of them. And they're so comfortable."

"I like the way they've designed that seam, too, don't you? It's much easier to pee."

"Much. Even one-handed."


"Man, I really like your Sponge Bob boxers. They look like they give you a lot of room to move."

"They sure do. Do you want to try them on?"

"No, thanks, Carl. I'm going to go get some of my own."

"You won't be sorry. Ask Scott. He has some, too. I saw them when we were dressing after tennis. He also complimented how airy they are, even while they're stylish."

"No gapping?"


"Then I'll be able to wear them when I go out to get the newspaper on Sunday mornings."

While I wish women success in their quest for the perfect bra, I might be a little bit jealous. Clearly, men, we live in very different worlds, ours being very restrictive for fear of being ridiculed, while our females are free to frolic and flaunt their frilly things with their friends and no one will give it a second thought. Where did we go wrong?


troutking said...

1. There was no reason to get upset about the saleswomen refusing to check in the back. As they pointed out on Seinfeld, there's never anything good in the back. If there were, it would be out front.

2. Someone in my office actually has tried to discuss underwear recommendations with me. It would not be hard to guess who. Actually, sadly, there is more than one possibility.

3. Do you think me could discuss a bro or manzier choice?

troutking said...

* men, in number 3.

jed said...

please watch "My Big Breats and Me" on BBC America. you will see that the physics of a properly fitting bra are quite complex and are rarely known by the average bra buyer. quite fascinating...

jed said...

oops. i meant "breasts."

Billy said...

I once overheard a group of women - I won't say whether I know them - have a conversation like this:

"I just can't wear thongs."

"That's clearly because you've never tried (some specific thong brand) before. If you did, you'd never wear regular panties again."

"MmmmI don't know..."

"Trust me. I've gotten four other women hooked on them, and all of them said the same thing you did."

This is why having female friends and/or occasionally nosing in on their conversations is so gosh-darned edutaining.

Anonymous said...

So much truth and hilarity in your post, and it left me giggling hysterically in my office - so much so that a student (male) asked if I was crying.

My friend Camille got breast implants in the summer between sophomore and junior year in college, and immediately upon seeing each other again in September, she yanked up her shirt and said "You have to feel my boobs." And of course, we did not think this was at all strange.