Bra Shopping in Honduras

Well considering the fact that Bourbon has decided to wage war on my bras, I have found it necessary to go shopping for a couple more bras here in Honduras.
Let me explain the bra situation here in Honduras: Women here don’t know how to buy bras. Now, don’t get me wrong, because after one bra shopping adventure on my own my Mom banned me from entering a changing room without her supervision.

Hello! My name is Hannah and I am 23 years old and my Mom still helps me buy bras!
Anyways, these women have the double boob going (when the bra fits too tight) or the pointy boob deal. I honestly don’t know what they’re doing wrong, but there isn’t one Honduran woman who has a properly fitted bra. Now, afraid that my boobs would start to look like that (I’m not interested in integrating THAT much!), I decided to wait until a Santa Rosa trip to go to one of the nicer stores and actually drop some serious cash on bras.

Well, it just so happened last weekend we were having a going away party for a couple of friends and I got there early to get some shopping done before everyone else got into town. Now, Kathryn couldn’t go because she was baking cupcakes (delicious!) and Darren refused to go, claiming that it would really be best for both of us that he didn’t accompany me because he would just complain the entire time. Rachel was on her way in with her husband and I texted her, “Want to go bra shopping with me? Pweeeze?” to which she responded, “Umm…” I took that as a NO.

So, after doing a couple of angry dances, I set off on the wonderful adventure of shopping for bras in Honduras. I walk into this store and am immediately overwhelmed by all the clothing options. It’s like a department store (smaller though) and I haven’t been shopping like this in over 10 months. GROAN. I finally find the bras and get to work. They’re all lacey, they’re all SUPER padded and it’s just too much for me. Ask Molly, she was on the phone with me for part of the time …

“This is RIDICULOUS! I don’t want my boobs to be nuzzled under my chin! Aren’t there any bras without a MONTON of padding?? I, I just can’t handle this. This is ridiculous. Oh, perfect, Playboy bunny. Now THAT is just what I’m looking for! So fits my style! Who knew?! Isn’t there just plain BLACK?”

Lucky her, my phone died and she didn’t have to listen to that anymore. So I pick the “modest” bras and go into the changing room. OOF I forgot how God awful those mirrors are. Still ate four cupcakes later though …

Most of the bras didn’t even fit, but when one did I threw my T-shirt on over top thrust out my chest, trying to make sure that I wasn’t sporting the Honduran boob look. I was probably in the changing room for hours, looking at myself from all possible angles, paranoid as hell that I would walk out of there with misshapen boobs.

The entire time I was wondering around the store people were following me. I probably looked so mean that they didn’t want to approach me. It was like I was 15 again and me and my friends would wander into stores and the sales ladies would follow us around. I was always so offended that they thought I was going to steal something. Still offends me today, as I walk around the store, muttering, “Lay off! I’m JUST looking. GOD!” At this point I was so flustered and worked up that my cheeks were bright red and I was sweating profusely. If big stores do that to me in Honduras I will probably faint when I visit the States. It was so overwhelming I could barely handle myself.

Finally, I decide on two bras and get out of there. Well, I can’t just walk down to the cash register, because that would make too much sense. Apparently, these people following me were intended to help me and then when I am ready to buy my things they have to carry them down to the cash register for me. There’s one register, all the customers and then the sales clerks who are helping the customers. This means a cluster ***** of people waiting to check out.

Now, you ask, what nice service did this sales clerk provide? NOTHING! Waste of space and money to pay her salary. She literally just ripped the tags off the bras, removed the security thingers and then put the bras on the counter. This wasn’t anything that I or the cash register lady couldn’t do. Actually, I have nothing against her, but the one in front of me …

The attendant lady in front of me was taking the security tags off of another customer’s purchases and after the removal of each tag she FLUNG the item of clothing over her shoulder. I was so frazzled and ready to get out that I didn’t notice the dress flying towards my head and got smacked in the fact with some obnoxious bow or button. I wanted to punch her in the face.

Then, when you think the attendant lady would have moved to allow me to pay, she continued to stand there in front of me so that I couldn’t access the counter to give the woman my card … GAAAH!

I busted out of that stored like I was being let out of prison. I am NEVER doing that again!

Naturally, when I got back to Kat’s apartment everyone had gotten there and I was forced to show them my purchases. Later, when people had left and it was just Rachel and Kathryn in the apartment, I tried on my new bras for them and made sure that I was safe from the Honduran bra curse.

I swear, if I went through all that emotional trauma and Bourbon even so much as LOOKS at one of those bras I am selling him to the highest bidder!