“You must train your intuition - you must trust the small voice inside you which tells you exactly what to say, what to decide."- Ingrid Bergman

When I received an email advertising bra fitting appointments with a Chantelle rep at a fancy lingerie store near Pennsylvania Ave. (the closest I get to political), I made an appointment.

What’s my bra fitting history? A story waiting to happen, basically. I’d never had a bra consultation beyond my mom standing in the corner of a department store dressing room, adjusting bra straps or getting different sizes and telling me that I’m, “so cute.” Mommm…

Why the desire to have a bra fitting now? It seems like a grown-up thing to do, and because I still sometimes feel like a kid walking in my mom’s high-heeled shoes (though I swear by pedorthic footwear), I thought I’d try something that reeked of mature.

When I told my mom about making the bra fitting appointment, she said, “You know you’re going to have to buy a bra, even if you don’t find one that you really like. It would just be awkward if you didn’t buy one.”

My intention with making the appointment was to buy a new bra, but unless someone is pointing a gun at me or is in control of my paycheck, I’m not doing anything that I don’t want to do (and even with the latter, I’m sometimes resistant when the task doesn’t suit me). Maybe (probably) it is socially expected to buy a bra in the context of a one-on-one fitting - regardless of 100% satisfaction - but if I didn’t, so what? Would the bra police revoke my license to wear supportive chest garments? Would I face a punishment of having to wear a black bra under a white shirt daily?

Advice Aha!: Question advice contaminated with absolutes (words like, “must,” “have to,” or “no other way”). Unless the advice giver can prove their own omniscience, how can they be so certain of what is undoubtedly right in general and, more importantly, what is right for you? Granted my mom usually is right, but in this instance I sensed that her tendency of people-pleasing overshadowed her capacity to be logical.

I arrived to the lingerie store (with butterflies in my stomach). I’m bashful, ok? A woman with a French accent (let’s call her Frenchie).

Frenchie was a no nonsense bra consultant. She showed me to the dressing room and told me to take off my shirt. Alright, apparently she didn’t get the memo about my needing to feel comfortable (and loved?) before removing clothing. I bet Frenchie is someone who started wearing bras without ever easing into it through the training bra phase.

We began with one measurement and one measurement only – band size. “34,” she told me. Ah, yeah, story of my life – since I was 12. I had envisioned the bra fitting to be a series of carefully calculated measurements with arms up, then down, then one arm up and the other down, my bending backwards and forward, perhaps having to execute some of my yoga skills to get these most coveted precise measurements.

I tried on one bra after another, with Frenchie coming into the dressing room to check the fit of each bra and adjust the straps. She selected bras with lace and bows, styles that didn’t suit me. “Frenchie, I’m a minimalist,” I thought to myself. Not once did she ask me what I was looking for, so I politely said that I’d prefer something plain, everyday, basic.

Advice Aha!: If someone is giving you advice, they should first ask about your goals (cleavage), past history (aversion to padding), and ideas you have for solutions (prayers for a sudden growth spurt). Otherwise, you risk receiving advice that suits the advice giver and their interests rather than you and your own beliefs (or breasts).

With the next bra I tried on, I told Frenchie that it didn’t fit me well. “Yes, I have the same sensation,” she said. I wasn’t anticipating anyone having sensations today - just a bra fitting. What did I get myself into?

Advice Aha!: Advice is not a one-way street. Just because someone may be an authority on the something for which you’re seeking their informed opinion, don’t underestimate the power of self-knowledge, the indisputable value of your intuition, your gut, and your conscience. Speak up if what you’re hearing sounds inappropriate for you (or your breasts).

After bra #8, Frenchie told me that we’d soon be running out of options. She noted which bra she thought fit me best, but it wasn’t what I wanted. So, I put on my shirt (diminishing some feelings of clothing-off-anxiety), brought out the handful of bras I would not be buying, and thanked Frenchie for her time and help. She smiled (wasn’t expecting that) and thanked me for coming in.

I called my mom after I left the store, and she asked if I bought a bra.

“No, nothing fit well and there was an excess of lace and bows.”

“Did the sales person seem to mind?” my mom asked.

“I don’t think so, but even if she did mind, it’s not my problem. My problem is that I still want a new bra.”

“Ok, well how about we go shopping together next weekend,” said ever-reliable mom.

Music to my ears (and chest).

We’re living in a time when consultants, life coaches, niche bloggers, and opinion leaders are all over our virtual and face-to-face worlds. And many of these people can help broaden our perspective and probably come up with some good advice to clear up our respective confusion if we ask for their opinion. What I am trying to do more and more, though, is to trust my inner advice columnist, because sometimes the Frenchies of the world leave us without answers (or underwire).

Yes, this is only my second post on Brazen Careerist and both have centered on breasts. I don’t know how to explain myself.