More Words Please

Leaning in, saying something, validating each other

Apologies in advance to my male (or female) readers who might not like reading about breasts, particularly mine. (Yet this is only peripherally about breasts. It’s really about how we care for each other.)

I had breast cancer when I was 34, and one of the ways I got through it was with directness and with humor. So it’s a topic I’m happy to talk (or write) about. There’s nothing funny about the cancer itself, and I’m extremely cautious in assuming any other cancer patients would find anything about it funny or want to hear my own humorous musings on the topic. But my cancer journey did come with a fair number of bizarre and ultimately laughable moments that made me laugh (Finding an 800-number on my nipple on a sticker and being invited to join a support group called The Young and the Breastless stand out). It also came with a fair number of indignities that continue to this day.

After a mastectomy and many reconstructive surgeries, I do need to go to just a little bit of extra effort to find bras and clothes that fit me. And that’s where this current day story picks up, 31 years after my cancer.

Some stores are known for doing bra fitting well; I won’t name names.

And whereas I don’t need anything specialized and can buy off the rack, I do like to get a salesperson’s opinion on what might work best for me. So I booked an appointment at this renowned store for a fitting.

I arrived, checked in, met the person assigned to me, followed her to the dressing room, described what I was looking for (believe me; it was nothing unique), disrobed, and awaited her suggestions. She said, simply, “Just relax. I’ll be right back.” I did just that, hanging out waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Twenty minutes went by; I assumed she was rounding up 20-30 different, awesome options! Whoo hoo! As time went on it became decidedly less relaxing and then, ultimately, I started getting anxious. Something about sitting topless in a room feeling forgotten is just, well, vulnerable.

Finally the Bra Lady came in, rather flushed, and blurted out, “I can’t help you. I’m going to have to have a manager call you. Give me your phone number.”

That’s all she said. No explanation. No more words.

“WHAT!?!?” I should have replied.

Instead I mumbled my phone number and rushed out, feeling like a freak for being inexplicably rejected by a Bra Lady.

But why did she reject me?! Honestly, I cannot figure out why I was a challenge to her, but I know that she quickly became a challenge to me. It stung.

Whatever the situation, a few extra words would have helped. Perhaps any of these might have fit:

• You are a freak, and someone with more experience than me will have to help you. (Ouch… but clear.)

• We just had a new policy announced, while I was looking for your bras, and we are not selling to 65-year-olds any more. (Dumb, but I can deal with reality.)

• We only have chartreuse bras in your size, and I know that’s not your color. (True.)

• I have a headache and have to go home immediately. There’s no one else available to help you today. (“I hope you feel better.”)

Something would have helped. Maybe even a smile or body language that didn’t communicate panic.

I’m a grown-up. I’ve dealt with far harder things than not finding the right clothing on the first try.

Life has hurts, disappointments, rejections, limits, and challenges.

Most anything hard, though, is better when someone comes alongside us; the presence or words of a good friend are calming. Even a stranger’s presence can mediate goodness and a reminder that we matter.

So here’s to leaning in even when it’s awkward. Here’s to being present even if we don’t know what to say. And here’s to putting a few extra words out there so nobody is just left wondering.

(And, yes, I did talk to the Bra Lady’s manager later when I was less embarrassed. She said the right things. And assured me that wouldn’t happen to anyone else again.)