BraVa! 2018 – Playtex 8267

I was honored once again to have a piece selected for the 4th Annual BraVa! This event benefits the YWCA of the Greater Capital Region. It is a fundraiser that seeks to provide new bras to women and girls that live at YWCA-GCR and those in need in the Greater Capital Region of New York. As described on the YWCA website, the event features writers from around the region and beyond who read jury-selected poems and essays or perform songs and monologues on the subject of brassieres in their lives.

Once again, it was an inspiring and uplifting (pun intended) evening. The audience laughed and some of us cried. The poems and memoirs were poignant and truthful. I left the event grateful for the opportunity to witness these stories, ready to write more of my own.

I haven’t written much at all these days. I wasn’t even sure I would write something for BraVa! this year. I spent three days in the hospital in mid-October and was released just 10 hours before the submission deadline for the event. At 7:10 pm, four hours and fifty minutes before the deadline, I decided to write this piece. I read it to my mother on the phone before I hit “submit.” On Friday, I read it for the audience at BraVa!

If you are shopping this holiday season, consider buying a new bra for your local women’s shelter. Everyone needs support now and then.

A woman wearing a red cape is seated in a wheelchair in front of a podium. She is reading into a microphone. There is an indoor circular clothesline with various color bras hanging on it on the other side of the podium.
Photo courtesy of Daquetta Jones

Playtex 8267

Whenever I am shopping in the lingerie section of a store selling Playtex bras – the ones sold in the plastic containers with the blue or pink cardboard – I always look for model number 8267, the 18 Hour Original Comfort Strap Wirefree Bra. 34 C is apparently a popular size because rarely do the stores have it in stock. If I am lucky enough to stumble upon the coveted size and model, I whip out my phone and call my mother.

“Mom – you still wearing a 34C? It’s the 18 Hour one, right? I’m in Boscov’s shopping for bras and I looked at the Playtex ones for you. They only have it in white, is that alright?”

The call is really just to let her know to expect a new bra in the mail. Of course my mother, Caroline or Dolly as she is known to everyone, is still wearing the iconic Playtex 18 Hour Bra! It’s the only style of bra I have ever seen her wear in my 45 years of life. At 91 years old, Dolly is not about to change something as critical as her trademark bra.

Dolly’s bra, like her, is no nonsense and genuine. It is functional without needless frills. It gets the job done in a superior manner without calling attention to its work and craftsmanship. No excess lace or color is necessary for her brassieres. Although the model now comes in a variety of colors, you won’t see Dolly wearing any colors other than white or natural beige.

As a child, I noticed the other neighbors only put sheets and towels on their backyard clotheslines. However, Dolly’s underwear and lingerie were displayed for all to see as they dried in the breeze. Of course, so were mine when I lived at home since I was physically unable to do my own laundry. This didn’t seem odd to me because Dolly never used her clothes dryer then and only rarely uses it now. Two days before I left home to be an exchange student to Australia at age 16, I posed for a photo in the backyard with my parents. Dolly sent the photo halfway around the world to me and I promptly put it on the dresser in my borrowed room, in a borrowed frame my host brother gave me. Not until he asked me why we had posed before laundry did I realize Dolly’s five bras were waving in the wind behind our smiling heads. The photo spent the entire year with me, on display in each host family house – me, my parents and Dolly’s bras. Today it is on the first page of my 4 photo albums from that magical year Down Under.

A few weeks ago, I told my mother I might write this essay about her and her bras. I wanted to know if she would be comfortable with me sharing what some would consider personal information with strangers.

“Well, I suppose if anyone can find a way to make my dull white bras interesting, you could. Remember, I wear the 18 Hour – not the Cross Your Heart.”

Was she telling me I was shirking in my bra shopping? Had I made a mistake and accidentally purchased the wrong style? I went online to verify I had purchased the right bra and made a shocking discovery. In 2015, Playtex had a rebranding and changed the model number and name of their iconic bra. It is now model number 4693B, known as the 18 Hour Ultimate Shoulder Comfort Wirefree Bra. I called her again, wanting to make sure she had this important update and also to verify she had sufficient quantity. Apparently I had been neglectful in my duties.

“I’ll still wear it! I have 4 right now so I’m good. I rotate them in my drawer after I do the laundry so I don’t keep wearing the same one all the time. That way they last longer.”

Even though it has been years since I’ve sent a new bra to my mother, she is still treasuring the past gifts I’ve given her; taking care to keep them in good condition for a little longer until life permits me the time and energy to resume my regular lingerie shopping.

Simple life lessons from Dolly. Who knew so much could come from a bra?

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Everyone Loves a Snow Day

I went to bed last night thinking the predicted storm might not be so bad for us. The meteorologists were calling for heavy wet snow for the nearby Catskill, Adirondack and Berkshire mountains – over a foot. But as of 10 PM, we were only supposed to get 2-5 inches.

Here’s what it looked like at 8 AM. When my Personal Assistant left, the snow was over her shoes. Side note – she’s a gem for driving here at 5:15 AM to get me out of bed and showered on days like this. She never calls out due to snow.

My office was closed today because the building lost power due to the storm. Even though it’s been 23 years since my last days as a full-time student, I am young enough to appreciate a snow day. Especially one I did not expect!

So far, I have been fabulously lazy. For the past 4 hours all I’ve done is crochet while binge-watching episodes of Bondi Rescue on Netflix. Yes, I know, it’s crap reality TV. But it’s sunshine, blue water and Australian (mostly shirtless) life guards. When this is the current view outside, I’ll take mindless sun and surf any way I can get it!

Winter scene of heavy snow on an apartment building with cars parked in a lot.
That’s my van Clyde buried under the snow.

How about you? What’s your favorite snow day activity?

BraVa! 2017: What is Pretty?

Once again last year, I participated in BraVa! This event, a fundraiser for the YWCA of the Greater Capital Region, is described by creator Marion Roach Smith as “a night of memoir about the place of bras in our life.” Admission to the event includes a new bra. The bras are given to women who are in need.

I am honored to have participated in BraVa! for three years. When the call for submissions for the 2017 event came out last September, I wasn’t planning to write anything. Life was too busy. I was moving at the end of October, and I had no time to write. Plus, I didn’t know if I had another bra story in me. I had already written two (this one and this one) and couldn’t think of something new.

But, the day of the submission deadline I decided I had to at least try. I sat at my computer thinking of everything that had happened since the start of 2016 – the femur fracture, rehabilitation, moving out of my apartment, facing another imminent move into a new apartment, not being able to independently drive, trying to maintain full-time employment and volunteer activities. I reminded myself that I had set a goal to submit a piece of writing somewhere in 2017, and how I had not yet done so.

I started to write at 6:38 PM. At 10:03 PM I hit “submit” and uploaded my essay. I had no hope of being selected to read, but was proud that I sent it in. When I received the notice it had been chosen, I was honestly surprised and of course honored.

I never considered that I might be developing a local reputation as a woman who writes about bras until I attended TEDxAlbany in December. One of the speakers, Jené Luciani, spoke about how to find the perfect bra. (You can learn more about her talk here.) As we gathered back in the auditorium after lunch, a woman came up to me and told me she recognized me from BraVa! She then asked if I was going to be speaking about bras! We laughed as I explained I was just a member of the audience this time.

Since that encounter, three other strangers have approached me about my BraVa! readings. As someone who is routinely approached by strangers because of my disability, it is refreshing to have people stop me for a different reason. Perhaps, I’m OK with being known as the “bra lady” after all!

Here is the piece I read in November for BraVa! I hope the next time you are shopping for a new bra for yourself (or someone you love), you’ll consider buying an extra bra for a local women’s shelter. Everyone can use support now and then.

Umbrella clothesline full of bras in assorted sizes and colors.

What is Pretty?

I was two hours late for work on my first day back after an unexpected five day absence due to an intense sinus infection. An emergency wheelchair repair delayed my arrival, but I was determined to make it through the day now that I was finally at the office.

So when I began to get a strange sensation “down there” around noon I ignored it. I had been so wiped out by the sinus infection, I completely forgot my period was due.

I had to go home to change before the situation became even uglier. I called one of my Personal Assistants to help. We arrived home at the same time, and I urgently threw my cape aside as I rushed to the commode.

But, even when the need is great, one should not rush a transfer from wheelchair to commode. Particularly when the Personal Assistant who is working is incapable of following verbal directions. She didn’t listen to my commands. She dropped me.

SNAP! I heard the crack of the splintering bone as my butt crashed down on my ankle..

Imagine the scene – me, half naked on the floor by the commode, bleeding and still needing to pee, knee blown up the size of a basketball, a whimpering Personal Assistant trying too late to make things better. And now in walks the police officer, the first to respond to the 9-1-1 call.

It wasn’t pretty.

It definitely wasn’t pretty as the paramedics moved me to a backboard then lifted me to a stretcher. It turned downright ugly as I swore nonstop in agony while they secured me in the rig. We don’t need to talk about the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Two days later, the surgeon reassembled my fractured femur with, in his words, “a plate, screws, chicken wire and bubble gum.” I asked him to point out the bubble gum on the x-ray, and was told sometimes that dissolves before imaging. The thirteen screws and eight inch plate that I will carry for the rest of my life are clearly visible.

After two weeks in a hospital bed, it was time for me to get dressed and head to Sunnyview Rehabilitation Hospital for intensive physical and occupational therapy. I was the least pretty I had ever felt in my life. I needed a shower, a razor, a manicure, and a good pair of tweezers.

My friend Sally brought some clothes, honoring my request for loose tops and comfortable pants. As she removed the items from a bag, I saw a flash of red.

I know you aren’t feeling like yourself, but I figured you’d want a pretty bra.

Sally, bless her heart, knows I don’t wear boring white bras even on the worst of days. She understands my need for color, the satisfaction I gain from knowing underneath my sensible, sexless fleece turtleneck is a scrap of satin that gives support to so much more than my breasts. Sally packed six colorful bras for me – and a tan one because she is practical after all.

I worked harder than I ever had at any physical task for those two weeks at Sunnyview. Three hours of exercise every day, enduring the most intense orthopedic pain I’ve ever experienced. It was not an attractive time for me. I was angry, bitter, and resentful. I have never been an exercise person, and now I was breaking a sweat – in the morning AND afternoon! Thank goodness I had all of those bras because there was no way I was wearing any of them for more than one day at a time.

I continued therapy for months at home and as an outpatient, learning new ways to perform all of my activities of daily living. I will never recover some of the function I had before the femur fracture. I now need more assistance to complete tasks I used to do independently. So much in life has changed because of that fall twenty months ago.

One thing has not changed. I still like, and wear, pretty bras. I don’t wear them for a man or a woman. I’m not trying to impress or attract anyone with my colorful lingerie.

I wear them to remind myself that even when life hands me the most repulsive challenges, causing me to grimace daily and feel unlovable and homely, I am beautiful on the inside, through it all. And I deserve every color of the rainbow.

Photo of baby wombats at a feeding bowl. The image features white text which reads "30 Days of Thanks Winner! Once again, I am thankful for baby wombats."

30 Days of Thanks Day 30: December!

Tonight is the last of my 30 Days of Thanks posts for 2017. Another year, another round of daily gratitude posts.

I am thankful that I made it through the month. I am proud of myself for setting the goal on October 31st of committing to daily gratitude posts – and meeting the goal! I have not been consistent with my daily writing this past year, but I managed to pull this off.

I am grateful, so incredibly grateful, to all of you who read my posts and supported me on this journey. Your comments, emails, and texts kept me focused and gave me strength when I was ready to say, “I’m not going to finish!”

Yet, here we are. Tomorrow is December 1st. I am reminded yet again how important it is to remain grateful in the midst of life’s challenges.

Did everything n November go according to plan? Of course not.

But so many amazing things happened in November – from Hamilton, to Brava!, to cookies with my sisters, and everything in between.

I am truly blessed to be surrounded by so much love. I am grateful for the opportunity to work and live independently. I appreciate your support and loyalty to me and my writing.

Welcome December!

A white peace lily flower stands amidst dark green leaves.

30 Days of Thanks Day 26: Flowers

I got back from my Thanksgiving holiday this afternoon. When I walked in my apartment, the first thing I saw was a new flower on my peace lily plant.

If you are unfamiliar with the story of my peace lily plant, and the significance of a new flower, I encourage you to read this post.

Coming home to a new flower felt like my sister and my father were greeting me as I returned from this past weekend. I smiled and offered a prayer of gratitude.

Then I managed to shove eight containers full of cookies in my freezer.