One Tuesday night brought with it a low barometric pressure front, and we girls were feeling it as we gathered around Janine’s porch.
Mootsie had a headache, some of us were feeling joint pain and the rest of us were just feeling a bit under par. What was once blamed on female hormones, we were now suspecting had something to do with the weather.
A quick search of barometric pressure and its effects on the human body brought up many pages of research on the subject. Is it possible to suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) in the summer? Yes, it is. One percent of all people suffer from summer SAD. Unlike the winter version (remedied with sun lamps), there is no known remedy for the summertime blues.
We were trying to think of something to lift our spirits…SHOPPING!
Ever since our little discussion about ptosis with the biology doctor, we have been trying to think of ways to improve the appearance of our decolletage. Having become quite tired of industrial-looking bras promising to improve the effects of gravity on our girls, we decided shopping for some lacy little numbers was in order.
Our destination was a popular girly lingerie salon, where they are known to overwhelm you with help and measuring tips. Eva went into a stall with a handful of bras, when suddenly throughout the boutique we girls could hear our names being called from the fitting room: “Somebody out there, please come here!
What we saw was a state-of-the-art, pull-over, sports bra that she had somehow wiggled into over her swimmer’s shoulders to get on, but which was now half way on and half way off and in a twisted mess. She could not get out of it without help because she was just recovering from shoulder surgery. A few more arms in the air, she would have looked like Medusa.
Two floor clerks came to check, and after some discussion the only solution appeared to be that someone had to carefully stretch it off of her without re-injuring her shoulder. What we needed were the jaws of life!
As the situation unfolded, I was thinking of a time I went mother-of-the-bride shopping with a friend. Once the dress was on her, the stubborn zipper wouldn’t slide down again. It was determined by the store manager that there was no other solution but to cut the dress off. And, that’s what they did!
I kept waiting for someone in this lingerie salon to suggest cutting the bra off, but it was not forthcoming, so “I” suggested it.
Eva looked hopeful, and the clerks looked panicked, and shook their collective heads, “no.” Okay, I understood the bra was pricey, but really? Shouldn’t that thing come with a warning label or something?
So, how many people does it take to remove a sports bra? Three. The levity of the situation removed all traces of the barometric blues.
See you next Tuesday!
Read more posts by Claire Butler, blogger for JenningsWire.
