Wake Up and Smell the Adhesive Brassiere

Or: The Lies Our Undies Tell Us

Over the holiday break, I gave my clothes closet a thorough exorcism cleaning. (Yes, I'm fun like that.)

It was during these excavations that I unearthed this item:


Or, more specifically, this item:


Also known as THIS ITEM:


I know. What. The. H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks?

I was so thrown by this discovery that I had to collapse onto a heap of discarded leg warmers and bootleg bikini bottoms to regroup.

I had no memory of buying this marvel of modern engineering, but (as I was relatively certain it belonged to me and not my husband) clearly I had.

The question was why? I examined the item, turning it over in my hands. I could not have made a discovery more disconnected from my real life if I'd unearthed a UFO's tailpipe in my Zen garden. (Hey, I could have a Zen garden. Don't assume.)

Yet here was the fleshtone evidence that, at some point in the last 5-9 years, I had considered myself a stick-on, anti-gravity, bra-in-a-box kind of person. Really? During which typical activity had I imagined strapping on this bad boy? Grocery shopping? Opening doors in the school carpool line? Whitening the tile grout around the shower head?

It just didn't seem like me. Perhaps I had suffered some kind of psychotic break one day while waiting for the kids' swim lessons to wrap up. (Now that I thought about it, that would explain a lot of things.)

Think, Anna. Think.

And then I heard it.

The voice was smooth. Authoritative yet inviting. The voice was seductive.

You can wear it when you go dancing.

"Who's there?" I said, looking around the closet.

Or when hosting an impossibly chic dinner party.

"A what?"

You could wear something slinky...strapless, even, the voice purred.

"Well, that doesn't really fit my-"

Why not? Who says you have to give up sexy, grown-up activities just because you've fallen into a bit of a rut?

"I wouldn't call it a rut, it's just that-"

So you're done? Done with things like dancing? It's going to be jeans and t-shirts from here on out?

"Well, no...I'm not saying that, exactly. It's just that these days my lifestyle is more-"

Do you see what it says on the box? "For the modern woman." Are you saying you're not a modern woman?

"Hey! I'm plenty modern!"

So what's holding you back?

"Well..."

Why not make plans to go dancing this weekend? I can see it now: lights flashing, music thumping, you in a fabulous strappy cocktail dress.

"Really? What color is it?"

Um, let's say blue.

"Blue," I pondered this for a moment. "I like blue."

See?

"Is my hair doing that flippy thing it only does when I've been to the salon?"

Why, yes, it is, Ms. Modern Woman. So...what do you say? Are you ready to embrace your sexy, festive new lifestyle?

Just then my husband stepped into the closet. "Hey, you're talking to yourself again. Have you seen my car keys?"

*sigh*

At least now I knew how I'd ended up buying it.



I Have to Share With You...





"A Defining Moment for Women"

This is the title of a wonderful article by Heidi Stevens of the Chicago Tribune, who interviewed me last week about The CHICKtionary. Ms. Stevens really "got" the book and I was thrilled when this piece ran shortly afterward.








"At the Intersection of Funny and Feminism"

The Chicago Tribune piece inspired an article on the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop website that touches on Erma's thoughts on what will apparently be an eternal public debate about a woman's "place" in the world of humor.

Believe it or not, this debate is just as lively today as it was in Ms. Bombeck's heyday, a fact that (ironically?) I find quite amusing.