Hullabaloo

I have a lot of Monterey updates so maybe I’ll write again later, or maybe tomorrow will be…….time for Monterey Tuesday? I’ll try to think of some alliteration for it. The point is that my story for today is too good to put off.

When I was little Brian was an A&M fan and Brandon was a UT fan. Personally I was neither, but if I had to choose I would have picked A&M purely because any smart person would pick maroon over burnt orange. ANY smart person. But beyond that, I knew nothing of A&M. I do remember, though, that anytime Brian did something stupid or silly my mom would sing “hullabaloo canek canek” and tell Brian that he belonged at A&M because he was truly an aggie. I later learned that “hullabaloo canek canek” is the beginning of the aggie war hymn, and I sang it to myself through the checkout at Target this morning.

I went to the gym this morning, and thought I’d save some time if I just got ready AT the gym rather than going back home to shower. Save drive time, save gas, and fewer distractions – perfect. Until I got out of the shower and realized I had forgotten to pack a bra! Here were my thoughts at that point:
1. Wear my sports bra. Quickly ruled out for multiple reasons – first being that it was already soaking wet, and second being that I had a white shirt packed for work and my sports bra was purple.
2. Wear no bra. Ok really this was ruled out before the sentence was even complete in my head. Some people may be able to pull it off, and in some outfits maybe I’d give it a fair shot. But I had packed a long sleeved white crew neck t shirt which is a size too big, so pretty loose, with a green sleeveless sweater jacket. When the shirt is tucked in and the sweater is on it’s a really cute outfit, but a too-large shirt is not forgiving for someone with boobs that move freely. So this was not an option today
3. Go home and get a bra – which I decided would take more time than I wanted to spend
4. Go to target and buy a bra – best option. Not ideal, but best in the situation.
So I rushed to target and quickly ignored all the cute eye-catching stuff along the aisles until I found myself surrounded by bras. All push up bras. Now, the ladies at victoria’s secret are always quick to tell me that no one is beyond the need for a little push up, but I disagree. I am not only beyond the need, but I also only wear shirts low enough to even see the “benefit” of the pushing up maybe twice a year, so then all that happens is everything is squished inwards while I’m wearing a crew neck shirt and I look like a weirdo. Thanks, but no thanks. So I skim past a few push ups, a few more, then find some non push ups in the 38D variety…not having much luck. Really, the only bra I found that was not a push up and was also in my size happened to be red lace. I think we’ve already gone over why that would not have been my best choice.

But then my eyes fall upon the lovely spaghetti strap tanks with built in bras. Golden. Something I would surely wear again, with no added padding or pushing or twisting or anything other sort of manipulation of what God has blessed me with. A beautiful thing really. So on my way back to the fitting room I discard the hanger and rip off the tags, bracing myself for the quickest wardrobe adjustment ever. Once in the room I take off my sweater jacket thing, take off my shirt, throw on the tank and put…wait…what the…what the hell is wrong with this tank? What is…why is…oh no…craaaaaaaaap.

A nursing tank. Yup, I picked up a nursing tank. There I was, staring myself in the mirror wondering why on earth I even bothered. I felt like I had already committed so much time to this tank, though, and I felt somewhat guilty for ripping off the tags and throwing the hanger somewhere in the shoe department so I felt like I had no choice but to buy the tank.
M
So here I am. Sitting at my desk. Fully prepared to unhook the straps of my tank and nurse a child.

Happy Monday.


- manda