After my breast reduction, I wore my stained surgical bras for months pining for the day I could buy new pretty bras.
When I was allowed to buy and wear real bras, we went straight to Nordstrom’s. Mom and I wanted to get me something special as my “first bra” and mom actively boycotts Victoria’s Secret after one employee told me their “bras would fit me if I gained weight.”
So to Nordstrom’s we went. We browsed all the bras, picked out a few I liked and took me back to get a fitting.
At this point, by breasts were healed, but were not pretty. They looked stitched together and angry.
I was terrified that the Nordstrom fitter would not want to fit me after she saw my Frankenstein boobs. We didn’t explain to her why my breasts looked the way they did, and she didn’t ask. She also didn’t give my mother a side eye when she stayed in the fitting room with us. I look young, maybe she assumed I was a minor and wanted my mother to supervise to keep me safe. I don’t know, but I appreciated how normal she made it feel.
It was better than every other bra fitting I had been to.
I left with two bras, one that I recently got rid of because it became too big after my breasts settled, and my first bralette ever.
I didn’t feel excited when we left, I felt exhausted. I wanted to go home, not shop the rest of the mall like mom wanted. It was like I had completed a task I had been preparing for and now that it was over I needed to rest.
The fitting was more ceremonial than it was anything else. It was about moving forward with my new breasts and making them normal for me. Getting rid of my old bras and wearing something other than an ugly surgical bra was the second to last step in the healing process. Everything after that was smooth sailing. I keep collecting bras and trying out new ones. Buying bras has never been a fun experience and it still isn’t but I have more options now. I exclusively wear jockey soft bras and that wasn’t an option before.