Brave

When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up and be brave.  At the time this meant that I would be an archeologist or an anthropologist, travelling the world to obscure and secluded places a la Indiana Jones.  I remember reading somewhere that courage was being scared but doing the right thing anyways, and I believed in that.

Then the teenaged years hit, and I no longer wanted to be brave, I wanted to forget, to not feel.  By my late teens, there was no more need to be brave; I was so self destructive that no one around me thought I would make it past 27.  Since the future and the unknown/uncontrollable is usually what scares me the most, not expecting to have a future made being brave easy.

Then in my early 20s I wizened up, moved here and started over.  After my first year here, the thing that scared me the most was normalcy.  I didn’t want to get sucked into what I saw as a mind numbingly boring life with a husband and 2.4 kids and a house in my teeny tiny hometown.  My family tried for years to stuff me into that mold, and I fought just as hard to do the exact opposite.  By this point I had realized and come to terms with the fact that I was pretty messed up and I decided not to impose my craziness on anyone else.  I would brave my life alone, independent, no man, no kids.

After a few years, a couple of relationships, a total breakdown,  a bunch of therapy and the was even more secure in my idea that I should be alone, and that it would be fine.  My definition of bravery had gone from grand adventure to facing a future alone, and I was ok with that idea.

Then I met my BF, and as I got more and more involved with him I encountered a fear more intense than any I have ever encountered before.  I realised that this relationship was different, whereas before I had loved someone and taken the risk of losing that person, this time I was quadrupling my risk, this time around I risked losing a family.  There was a turning point where I had to make a decision.  The more involved I got, the more I would have to lose and the less control I had over the future, and the more terrified I was.  Then I remembered that bravery was being scared and doing it anyways, and I dove in.  Almost immediately, another realization hit, I was headed head first into that mind numbing boring life I didn’t want.  That second fear I rationalized away, I told myself that I was only a weekend stepmom, and that I wouldn’t have the day to day boring parenting stuff to do.

I spent the next year and a half or so patting myself on the back, I had conquered my fear, and had triumphed, all would be well…or so I thought.

A few months back we got hit with a whole lotta crap, and we hit another crossroads.  It was starting to look more and more like the best thing for the kids, and us, was to ask for shared custody.  Then one day, SS1 came right out and asked for it.  My BF, being the wonderful guy he is put no pressure on me other than to say that he was seriously thinking about it, but that he would not, and could not, do it without me being 100% on board.

Just as I was finally hitting my stride with this whole step-parent thing, BAM! Right in the kisser.  The fear was even more intense than the last time; there were so many more questions, and doubts.  We discussed it over and over, the pros, the cons, the uncertainties.  I wasn’t sure if I was ready, or if I would be any good at the day to day stuff.  I knew the Ex would have a fit and would take out all of her rage on me.  Was I willing to give up the faint, yet still present possibility of a adventure filled life to devote myself to his kids for the next 14 or so years.  Anyone who knows me will tell you right off the bat that I am not a long term commitment person.  The longest I’ve had a job is 2.5 years, same for relationships.   Lucky for me, I have a lot of supportive people around me who whole heartedly believe that I will make a good parent, even if I’m not sure.

The truth is, I still don’t have any answers to any of those questions, and I am still terrified, which is why I’ve been hiding from the interwebs for the past while.  The only thing I do know, is that I have decided that I am willing to dive in even further, and that this family we have created is worth the fear.  We started proceedings for shared custody this summer, and have our court date for November.  This time the fear is not going away, or even lessening, but I am doing it anyways, and hoping it’s the right thing.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a post inspired by the word: brave

Lament of a Bra

The humble bra...such a small thing to take up such a big place in my life. 

From ages 10 to 13 they made me cry. I was a flat chested at the time and as girl after girl around me started to blossom I would look down and see nothing happen.  The boys even had a rhyme, not a very good one I admit, but it still hurt.  "Roses are red my watch is gold, you’ll never wear a bra cus you’ll have nothing to hold".  20 years later I can still hear them taunting me.  My mom tried to reassure me that all I had to do was look around me and the women in my family, surely I could see this would not be an issue for me.  I wanted to believe her but another thing I knew was that my family were notoriously early bloomers, not near as late as me.  I remember even wearing a bikini top under my shirt so that I would have something like the other girls when we all changed for gym. 

The summer was 13 I went to see my family in Quebec and my cousin went through her clothes like she did every year to give me what no longer fit.  I told her about my fears and she reassured me that it would all work out.  She then gave me a baby blue bra with a little pink bow in the middle she told me that she didn't need it anymore and that she was sure I would need it soon.  I remember thinking it was the prettiest thing I had ever seen.  It was not long that it was not long after that maybe too much that I actually started to use it. 

Then at 14 BAM! Everything happened at once.   It even happened so quickly that there were rumors that I had a boob job during the summer.  By age 16 I was a very full DD.  That was when I started having trouble buying bras.  The ones available either offered very little support or were too small.  Even finding a 34DD was hard, the stores usually started at 36 so I had an aunt who would take in the back for me.  Less than ideal, but the best option I had at the time.

Then about 6 years ago I gained weight, and the DD's didn't fit anymore.  The regular stores had 34 36 but stopped at DD and Plus size stores had bigger cup sizes but the bands started around 40, too big to even take in.  I started buying online.  I would pick a few try them out and if all was good buy more of the same model.  About 1 in 3 fit well enough to wear, the others I gave away because the shipping for returns made it more trouble than it was worth.

For the past six years I've been wearing "OK" fitting bras, none of them really fit and supported the way I wanted them to but it was better than nothing. 

A few months ago a miracle happened.  I was on a freebie site and got a coupon for $20 off $50 purchase at Addition Elle, a plus size chain.  I knew I couldn’t buy clothes there, but I figured they had shoes and accessories, so I may as well use the coupon.  I was walking around the store I saw magical thing, a big sign that said "now offered in 36".  I tried not to get my hopes up as I moved closer to be sure.  Then I saw it, a 36G bra.  I turned over to the sales lady and asked if she had any more.  She said I could have a fitting; she would bring me the options.  I went to the changing room and removed my much worn out bra as I waited for her to come back. 

She had six bras with her, SIX, and in colors and patterns.  Tears welled up in my eyes; it had been years since I had had a pretty bra.  They fit like a dream; I didn’t know which to choose.  She saw my dilemma and told me that since I was a new customer she could sign me up for the free store card and I would get more coupons by mail, and that that weekend they were doing a promotion that if you buy for over $50 they give you another coupon for $50 off a purchase of $100.  She suggested that I take one of every model and try them out for a month, and then come back with my rebates to get other colours for the ones I like.

I don't remember the last time I so badly wanted to hug a complete stranger.  I went home at a floating on air, excited to show off my new turquoise lace bra to my boyfriend who chuckled a bit about how happy I was over such a small thing.

Over the past few months I've been slowly rebuilding my bra wardrobe and getting rid of any that don’t fit right, slowly because even though they are a necessity, they are still crazy expensive.  I still marvel every day at the comfort of properly fitting bras and every time I put on a colourful or lacy one, it feels just like that first blue lace one with the pink bow that my cousin gave me almost 20 years ago.

I guess you could say that the right bra is a lot like the right shoe; it can change your whole outlook and make your entire day better.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a post inspired by the word: bra