The simplest of tasks sometimes take on a whole new flavor in another country. In this case, bra shopping. My girl friend got surprise invited to a wedding in Cancun by a man she met on the road and needed a strapless bra to go with her dress. Bra/bikini straps may be fine to display while on the backpacker circuit, but not so much at a wedding. So she and I headed off to find one. Not so hard, right?
Off we go to the streets of Valladolid, the Yucatan’s third largest city. We went in clothing stalls, shiny commercial shops (most with very small lingerie sections), and stores devoted exclusively to women’s underwear. It was in latter that we noticed something–every bra was cup size B. Seriously, every single bra. The band size at least had a little variety, from 34 to 38. Anything else, out of luck. We pushed on, and the Bs continued. We stopped in another three stores before we found a single non-B size bra. Finally, in a weird hybrid underware/bathing suit/children’s clothing shop we finally found one unsized, no underwire, strapless band that actually worked.
But come on, it should not be that hard. Forget about strapless, what about finding a normal bra in a different size? Not every woman in this town is a size 34-38B. Not even the majority! Either that or they are all seriously mis-sized. Where the hell are they finding their underwear? Is there a secret underground locals-only underwear market we are unaware of?!
I am still waiting for comments to this post because, in legal terms, I “lack foundation and am not qualified to testify.” Dad
OK, this is really weird. When I went to “publish” my last comment, it of course asked me to type in the jumbled word to prove I wasn't a robot — and the word was “Kesbra”!
And the trend continues: Playa del Carmen Walmart only sells B cups too. Weird. That and my recent frequency of bra shopping on this trip…
@Joe Hi 😀 I enjoy reading your comments almost as much as I love reading your daughter's blog!
@Erin This is why they say 8 of every 10 women are wearing the wrong size. Bra shopping in India at least always felt like a potential disaster of awkwardness/embarrassment, a weird to-do to be dispensed with as quickly as possible. All the salespeople were male. Changing rooms were sketchy. Selection wasn't great. Function quickly came to triumph over form: you just wanted something that *approximated* doing the job so you could leave asap. Ugh.