Continuing what-all Mom and I did on Mother’s Day…
Now, I’m not much into shopping.
If it weren’t for the driving and parking and crowds and screaming kids and lines, mom likes shopping.
I was glad she was up for the shopping as I wanted to buy her few necessities. I’ve known for a while that her underwear is very…spiritual. Sometimes I help her do laundry and she had some incredibly sad panties.
Personally, I find Target is a great place for bras and panties. Go figure! Great prices and a pretty decent selection. I can usually find something that will work. I don’t mind paying $7.99 for something that pretty much gets the job done.
If I’m paying $25 bucks for ONE panty it had better be perfect and really, I have no big desire for such perfection. This is not to say I have no desire for cute panties…or getting off on any kinda tangent here.
So.
I’m feeling relaxed. The store isn’t a madhouse and mom and I wander around the aisles much like we wandered around the park. I didn’t mention panties. I figure I’ll see how much energy I have after we get some regular shopping out of the way.
An hour or so later the shopping cart had a couple of jars of facial creams for “mature” skin, several bottles of some type of mouth rinse, gardening gloves, protein bars and scrubby pads. All for mom.
The store was even emptier than before.
“Hey mom, let’s look at panties. I know you need some.”
She paused. “Yeah. But…okay.”
I knew how she felt - shopping for underwear isn’t exactly fun. Especially if you have as she calls it, “A big boodah.”
We head over to the lingerie section. Racks and racks of panties and bras, some spilling into the aisles.
“I don’t want cotton. Too sticky,” she tells me.
I started scanning the bagged sets of three.
“What kind do you wear?” I ask.
We started scanning together.
“I don’t like the ones with the lace waistbands or anything that’s below my boodah. It cuts in.”
“Uhm…the hipster style?”
She looks at me. “I gotta wear granny panties.”
I smile to myself.
Mom looks down, pats her tummy with the palms of both hands.
“Yeah. When you have a boodah, you gotta wear the granny panties. Kinda sucks.”
It was actually fun scanning the racks and watching mom hold up panties in front of her boodah seeing if they’d fit.
We do end up going to the fitting room where she tells the attendant, “I will put them on over my panties…don’t worry…”
I have a few of my own items, what the hey, and we enter fitting rooms across from each other. I hear muttering.
“Ngugh! I have to take off my hiking boots…grrr…ooff! Grrr…Oooff-oofff-uhh..oooff!” (pause) “Nguh.”
“How’s it going?” I call out.
“It’s okay. They fit fine. It’s the body that looks like crap.”
Awwww.
We go through a few rounds of this. The cart now has a pile of panty 3-packs.
I eyeball the rest of the lingerie section.
“I think you need a few bras.”
Mom’s face scrunched up a bit and maybe her shoulders slump.
“I dunno.”
“Well…let’s take a quick scan.”
“OK. But no bones! I don’t want the ones with the bones!”
I wasn’t sure how much luck we’d have finding any type of bras without an underwire.
She tells me her size.
I replied, “That can’t be right. That’s the same size as me and I know you’re bigger.”
She tilts her head to one side, “Umm…maybe I’m a B-cup then?”
“Maaay…be. But I thinking you’re also the next size up…”
“But my current bra is that size.”
“I think it’s stretched out. I mean, it’s ancient.”
She looks down. “Huh. Could be.”
As I look for my size in a B-cup, she says, “Gotta be padded. When you’re my age, you need the shaping…”
I found one padded bra in her size that was free of bones. It was a bit snug but it worked.
I’m shopped out and we’re both thirsty.
We start sorting through all the panties. Mom has several sets of the same kinds. She asks, “Should I put these back? Don’t you think 6 pairs are enough?”
“You like those, right?”
“Well…they fit. There’s the boodah…”
“But you like them?”
“Yeah, they’re good.”
“Let’s get all three sets then. You can never have enough underwear.”
“Really?”
“Shopping for underwear is a pain in the…you find something that works, you load up.”
“Huh.”
We head towards the checkout counters. It’s almost 9 by now and no waiting! I pile everything on the conveyer belt. Mom starts rummaging.
“Mom, don’t worry about it - I’m buying all this.”
“Oh! Oh! Ohhh…Mother’s Day!”
It’s dark and cold as I head back home on the freeway.
My mom says, “Nice easy going day. A nice Mother’s Day.”
It certainly was.
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