A friend of mine was telling me recently about shopping for a “training bra” for her 10 (or maybe 11) year old daughter.  She was telling me how all of the girls in her class were wearing them, and so she had to take her daughter shopping so she wouldn’t be left out.  While admitting that she wasn’t sure her daughter needed said bra she did say that she had boob buds and so developmentally she was right on track.

This made me remember taking my daughter on the same shopping trip several years ago.  It began with me telling her she needed a training bra.  “Training bra”, she said in that way that only eleven year olds can.  If you haven’t had an 11 year old girl, let me try and explain the tone.  It is a scoffing tone that says both “did you really say what I thought you said?” and “you are crazier than I’ve been telling my friends you are.”  I said that she was beginning to develop and she needed both something to cover her boobie buds and give her a little protection against the flying elbows of boys who think boobie bud pain is funny.  “You just need a training bra.” I told her again.  “Training bra?  What are they training for?  The Olympics?” In my disturbed mind I was envisioning boobs in the olympics.  Where, you might ask.  Obviously, swimming…the breast stroke (rim shot) the end. 

We set off for Dillard’s, but I wasn’t sure whether we should go to the children’s department or the women’s department.  I chose the children’s department.  Wrong.  It seems children don’t wear bras.  I was told I needed to go to the women’s department. Unless of course I wanted to take her to Wal-Mart and force her to wear Underroos.  She really was against putting her boobies in a Barbie, or Gem and the Hollograms bra.  Might I add that bra is a very loose description of the garment.  It was more like a little undershirt that had been cut off at the ribs and had elastic placed around the hem.  Anyway…off we trekked to the ladies department at Dillard’s.  First, she had to be measured.  She was, well let’s say put out.  She didn’t appreciate lifting her brother’s sweatshirt from her leggings and letting a stranger put a tape measure to her.  Then (tragedy of tragedy) she needed a real bra, not a trainer.  I won’t mention the size, just suffice it to say that we should have seen that as an indicator of things to come.  We purchased three.  She might have worn one.  Years later she won’t take her bra off, except to shower…as far as I know.

I told my friend to be glad her daughter was such a girly-girl.  My daughter was not.  She can be now (if she must) but she can also belch with the best of them.  She has two older brothers.  She really is quite at ease with the boys.  My friend’s daughter has one brother and he is younger.  The differences are great!  My daughter was raised pitting Barbie against G.I. Joe in the cage match at the “Gardens”.  Madison Square, I presume but I would have to ask my youngest son to be certain.  My friend’s daughter is not usually a girlie-girl.  She is kind of rambunctious and doesn’t mind getting dirty.  I love her to the moon and back, don’t get me wrong.  I’m just saying she’s not a prissy little thing.  Anyway, after two sons I was really looking forward to pink dresses, hair bows, and all the trimmings.  When she was small I could force her.  By kindergarten, she was her own person…a little girly and a little tom-boyish.  I told my friend to cherish the moments when she could.  Enjoy and always remember the training bra shopping.  Look forward to homecoming and prom dress shopping.  Enjoy the temper tantrums and the foot stomping because who knows how long they will last.  I mean seriously, who knows?  It has been twenty-four years…anyone?

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