5/15/2015

Titillating Conversation Part 2

Okie dokie, my darlings... we are gathered here today, in the presence of hopefully no one, to figure out more about your breasts and your bra size. I am assuming that you are sitting at the computer in your best-fitting, unpadded bra. If you have a husband or best friend to help you with the measuring part, it's not a bad idea. If you don't, I will be with you every step of the way.

Let's Measure!

Now that you have written down your numbers and checked the graph for your cup size, how many of you are spitting and sputtering at me on the computer? Many times when I measure someone, she is in disbelief at what size I recommend. It's not until I get women in the right bra that they become believers.

As you all know, bras come in a lot of sizes. Manufacturers like to scale down what they make so a lot of women fit the cups and don't pay attention to the fact that they are buying a bra that is too big around. Or worse yet, they fit their band size and let lots of breast spill over. Neither is a good thing.

How would you like it if some shoe manufacturers decided to just make sizes 6, 8, and 10. A bunch of us would be forced to squish our feet into shoes that are too small or slop around in ones that are too big. That's kind of what the bra industry does to ladies and that's why you need to know what size you are in my Perfect Fifi Bra World.

A dear friend of mine who is tallish and enviably slender let me measure her a few years back. I told her that she was not the 34B or 32C she thought she was. As it turned out, she measured as a 30D or possibly a 30DD in some styles. Of course she had never heard of those sizes, but I assured her that they DO exist. She actually was close with the 32C when she could find them, but herein lies the problem: The cups on a 32C and a 30D are exactly the same, but where they are sewn onto the band is different. The 30D placed the cups precisely where her breasts are located on her body.

The size she needs is available, but not as easily. They don't carry it at Target or Wal-Mart or even Macy's. But there is this wonderful thing called the Internet (where you will find LoveFifi.com) that can help you find more custom sizes. Finding your true size is not only infinitely more comfortable, but also does fantastic things for your figure. I will help you find the style and size of bra that you need no matter where I have to look. If we don't have it, maybe I can order it special just for you. If some other retailer has what you need, I will give you the information.

After we calculate your size, there is a little more to it. Your height and build can have an impact on a good bra fit. Doing the numbers can give you your perfect bra size, but sometimes it just gets you in "the neighborhood". It's a good start, however, and that's where I come in. Write to me. Tell me about your build. I want to know what you have trouble with, what you like in a bra and what you don't like. If you wear a particular bra regularly please tell me what it is. Style numbers and manufacturer info will help.

I am here for my ladies... and my guys, too, so let's talk. If you cross dress or are transsexual, I can help you find your dream bra. Don't be shy, any of you. I am here with an open mind and open arms. I have worked with cancer victims for years and can help with the dilemmas associated with losing a breast or breasts or finding a bra after a lumpectomy.

I look forward to hearing from you. Send me those numbers!

5/08/2015

Titillating Conversation

I am very proud to say that I have long been considered an expert in the field of bras. This is both a point of pride and a curse all at the same time. No matter what I do or where I go, I look at women's breasts. I have to do it discreetly, of course, but I can't help it. So many women wear bras that are the wrong size, the wrong type for their body or too old to do their bustlines any good. Often times it is all the above.

For decades, I have been involved in changing all that, one set of boobies at a time. Once women know what I do, they tell me their bra woes no matter where we are having the conversation. Often they will pull their blouses up to their neck so I can get a first hand look at the problem. I have done bra critiques in elevators, hotel hallways and hundreds of Ladies' Rooms. I carry a tape measure always so I can do my bra missionary work at a moment's notice. Women are so grateful for my advice and recommendations.

I often will hear from them afterwards when they have followed my instructions as to the right bra and the right SIZE. I have been told that the experience was "life changing". It feels so good every time I add a new girl to my Fifi flock. The work I do is not extraordinary. It's what I do and I do it well, but I am not the Mother Theresa of my field, by any means. I am more of the Richard Simmons of bras. I get my followers motivated to find the support and shape they need to feel prettier and much of the time look thinner. I give women confidence and comfort with their bodies and that makes me very happy.

It is estimated that 75% of females are buying the wrong size bra. It's at least that much. I see it every day and I just want to go up to these poor ladies and whisk them away to the nearest broom closet and see what monstrosity they are wearing under their clothes.

I can't do that, of course, but I can certainly make sure that all my Fifi readers get educated. You see, my sweethearts, this is not your fault. The way stores merchandise bras these days is an atrocity. If you are not buying your bras from me, you have to "wing it" in the lingerie department. You must struggle through rack after congested rack of bras, all the while wrestling with those nasty little plastic hangers to look for what you think is your size. It's not fun.

Back in the Stone Age when I got my first bra,the Bra Department was a beautiful place with walls of built -in drawers that kept all the stock neatly nested in tissue, organized by size. A lovely and knowledgeable woman probably named Helen or Beatrice measured you, assessed your frame and then opened up each drawer with your size in it and made suggestions as to style. Then you tried them on and she came in and adjusted the back and the straps. When was the last time you tried on a bra in a department store? If you answered never, you are not alone. You'd try on a dress or a pair of shoes before you bought it, but rarely a bra. Here's where the problem lies and here's what we are going to do.

I am sending you all to Miss Fifi's Bra Academy. I want you all to meet me back here next week wearing your best fitting unpadded bra. You will need to bring something to write with and some paper. I am going to educate you, measure you, fit you and teach you the warning signs of an ill-fitting bra. After you learn the ins, outs, ups and downs of finding the right bra you will be forever looking at other women and noticing every bad bra in town. I told you it was a curse, but then you can help your circle of "sisters" get into a bra that does their body a big favor. And there is a BONUS to attending my short course next week. I will give you my personal contact information so we can talk. You give me the numbers and I will figure out your figure personally.

Next Saturday... same time, same place. Don't forget the tape measure! You need the cloth "seamstress" type, not the one from the garage.

5/01/2015

Mother

This won't be so much an article as it is just plain old fashioned musings. My heart and head are in a different place today and I just feel like talking. I hope that is OK.

If anyone were to ask me what is my biggest accomplishment in life, I would't hesitate for a minute. It's being a mother. I am very proud of my mothering skills and actually most everything else I have done in this life. OK, there was that one weekend in New Jersey all those years ago that wasn't my proudest moment, but the the statute of limitations for throwing up in someone's car console was up a long time ago.

With Mother's Day just around the corner, it brings up so many memories and quandaries all at the same time. My kids will be asking what I want to do. They won't want me to cook so that means going out to a crowded restaurant. Ugh. I just want to be with them. I want to be with my kids, their spouses and their kids. But then guilt sets in. Two of my daughters are mothers themselves. Maybe they would just like to hang out at home with their families. It's a dilemma. It's not that I don't want to celebrate the day or be worshiped by my children, but I don't want to take anything away from my daughters.

It's kind of a bittersweet day anyway, since my own mother is now gone. The ads on TV and the emails in my mailbox suggest that we mothers would like some tulips or chocolate or one of those seersucker zip-up gown thingies to lounge around in. The list of gifts I would like begins with help to clean my garage and ends with tickets to see the Rolling Stones when they go on tour next fall. I am not your typical mother or grandmother.

I don't go to the cemetery to visit my mom. For many, the cemetery is a happy place for folks who have lost their loved ones. Not for me. My mom was just the right amount of crazy. She could have given Lucy Ricardo tips on how to get into trouble. I remember fondly when I was a kid and our local fancy-dancy gift shop had a counter full of wind up alarm clocks for ladies' bedrooms. This was a lot of years ago, so stick with me if you don't remember clocks that had to be wound every day. There must have been 2 or 3 dozen clocks on display. My mother picked up each and every one of them while keeping the sales staff at bay with her "just looking" comments. I didn't pay much attention to what my mother was doing. I was just glad to be with her. Later that day at a few minutes before 6 p.m., my mom called the gift shop and asked for some help with an alarm clock she had seen earlier. The call was transferred and my mom was connected with a saleslady in that department. As she began to talk, a couple of dozen alarm clocks went off at the same time. My mother could not contain her delight. She had set them all to 5:55 p.m. just for fun. I probably told you this story before, but it's one of my faves. She did that kind of stuff every once in a while. It recharged her devilish side and was always amusing. Those are some of the best memories of my mom. Or the time my dad took a nap in the afternoon and she painted his toenails bright pink while he was fast asleep. One year there were sparklers left over from the fourth of July and she lit them and stuck them in the Thanksgiving turkey when she brought it from the kitchen to the table. She made life fun, so to sit by her grave just doesn't give me comfort. To short sheet someone's bed would be a better way to honor her.

One of the saddest times of my life was when my mom was fading and I wanted so desperately to ask her how she made particular dishes. Her cooking was remarkable and she never measured or wrote anything down. I never could bring myself to ask her any of the recipes I loved so much, because I didn't want her to think I was asking her these things before she died.

I still struggle to duplicate her fine cooking. She never used anything pre-made or fake. I remember one time when she looked into my refrigerator and saw light butter, light mayonnaise and light salad dressing among other "LITE" versions of food. She was in disbelief and shut the refrigerator door immediately exclaiming that it was a wonder we didn't all just float away with all that light food. My mommy was a complete character with a lot of character. I am so her daughter in so many ways. I miss her.

My mother was always so proud of me. She raised me to have good manners and social graces. She sent me to Cotillion to learn the Waltz and Foxtrot and proper behavior in a social situation, but I loved her madly anyway. She made sure I went to the best private schools and was taught French. I can conjugate French verbs like a champ to this day, but it doesn't do me a lot of good living in a state that is 50% Spanish speaking.

I know she thought I would grow up and marry Prince Charles and that would be it. Somewhere the plan went askew and I ended up selling crotchless panties for a living. (By the way, Spell-check kept insisting I meant "toothless panties" and fought with me to change it. I won.) She lived long enough to see my LoveFifi dream come true. She was proud of me and often commented that Prince Charles didn't turn out to be such a great husband anyway. It all turned out well.

So to all my mothers and grandmothers out there, I hope you have plans for a wonderful day on May 10th. My day will be a good one and all my kids will be there, I am sure. The good thing is that they tell me all year long what a great mother I am and how much they love me. I am one lucky lady.