You can take the girl out of the small town,

but you can't take the small town out of the girl.

Audrey and I have reached a milestone.  She officially has stopped nursing.  Yeah, a little old to do it, but she's the last one, so I cut her a little slack.  She's not done it for a few weeks now.  It's a double edged sword, however, because now our bedtime routine has changed. I wind up going to bed when she does, fully intent on getting up and using 'my time' like always, but I wind up knocking out too.  While the extra zzz's are nice, I have things to do and silence to enjoy once all the kids are down. 'My time' is important to me, and I've missed it. Yet, on the other hand, Audrey quitting me means:

WHOOHOO!  Mommy got to go shopping for some ahem, undergarments that weren't the usual boring maternity/nursing attire.  What, these things don't just come in serviceable white or beige?

One of my friends had told me how much she liked a particular bra at Victoria's Secret, so last week I had to check it out.  Usually, I walk right by that place, averting my eyes, lol, because it can be particularly depressing to look in there knowing you have the Playtex 3000 nursing model strapped to your chest.  But this time, I walked right in, cruised around, took it all in, and .....walked out empty-handed. 

What is it about that place that turns me into a ten year old?  It was really kinda intimidating; I was instantly regressed to the preadolescent memory of "oh, I don't look like that" in the presence of undergarments that are designed for only those fabulous chicks in their commercials.  I kept expecting Tyra Banks or Gisele to come out and point a finger (a la "Invasion of the Body Snatchers") ordering me to be cast out.  Yup, I got out of there in a hurry.  They certainly didn't carry things like that in the 'company store' growing up back home (they did carry endless rows of granny-panties --like bloomers in their coverage--and ugly bras that I still shudder to think about.  When I mentally compare it to the selection at Target, where I think even thongs are marketed to grandmas, I suffer pangs of horror.  Call it post-traumatic Nana-panties syndrome.)

Anyway, I decided I'd fare better with -pardon the pun- some support. 

Jane to the rescue!  Last Friday, when we went out shopping, she needed to go there.  This time, I did more than browse, I actually tried one on.  O M G.  What an improvement!  She could hear me giggling in the dressing room, so I put my shirt on and opened the door:  "Check this out!  Nice rack--holy cow, that's what they're supposed to look like?!"  Of course, a fitting saleslady was on us in seconds...and when she asked to help out, I actually let her in the dressing room with me...(which I never do) and chuckled at her suggestion that perhaps I needed to try the one with ahem, more of a barrier (lining.)  What is she, nuts?  I don't need anymore padding, highbeams or no highbeams showing, lol. (Gotta give Mr W a thrill whenever I can, right?)  In the heat of the moment, I decided to get a couple, even though they were a bit snug.  The next size is only available online, I was told.  I was so enamored that I took them home...and wound up returning one...and discovering VS online afterall.  Heehee.  Great, now I can feel inadequate in the comfort of my own home, without the benefit of bad lighting and 'helpful' salesgirls. (I'm kidding, really.)  Oh, the selection.  Definately more than the serviceable white and beige...

My package arrived yesterday (Oh, yeah!!) along with a catalog that I'll have to hide from the impressionable males in my house, and that includes Mr W.

Though now I think I may have swayed him into seeing the benefits of my time spent online.