I want you to look at this picture here:
At first glance, it appears to be a pleasant photo of me and my son at a local pumpkin patch, participating in fall-time merriment. (He is laughing here – not screaming lol) But… just after it was taken, something happened.
I’ll get to that in a minute.
Today, my parents took all the grandkids, myself, and my sister-in-law to a pumpkin patch to help the kids pick out their pumpkins to carve later next week. Immediately upon our arrival, we commensed forcing the children to have their pictures made amongst the bountiful fruits of this years harvest.
The girls and my infant son whined as they were told what they had to do. It was a sea; well, more like scattered ponds, of orange, green, pink, and yellow…
It looked as if Squanto would walk out of the woods at any moment with a basket of corn to offer us out of pity that we seriouspy have Biden and Trump to choose from in the next few weeks.
It was a completely southern moment only really white people could enjoy…
All it lacked was monograms and Ugg boots.
It was then that a tractor was hears approaching from the distance. It was going to take us on our awesome journey to the pumpkin field.
Now that I’ve set the scene, lets get back to the picture.
Take a good look at it.
Right after this picture was made…
Would you believe me if I told you I won $1,000,000 on a scratch off ticket?
Well, would you believe that I met Chuck Norris?
Would you believe me if I told you that my bra nearly busted off?
Because thats what happened.
Like a slingshot.
Inside of my shirt.
As I got up from the hay bale to go toward the tractor with my son, I felt something pop on my side, near my ribs.
Like a rubber band ‘pop.’
I started to panic a little.
BUT there was nothing I could do.
I thought to myself, “WOW WAS THAT MY BRA?!”
I was sure it was still ON somewhat… but it was no longer holding them up – it was just acting as a sheild. It was hanging on by a THREAD.
This particular bra was VERY poorly made. (I dont pay $80 for bras. Thats $40 per boob. No way.) It was not good quality at all. It was straight up dollar general looking trash… Before I put it on that morning, I thought to myself how cheap it was, but I thought “who cares? Its under my clothing and it does the job.” … But it just could NOT withstand the power of my post partum fat rolls, and the stretchy band on the side just exploded.
I tried to remain calm and not draw attention to it.
The garment was still functional for now… I mean, it was SOMEHOW staying ON my boobs… so I tried to be careful with my movements and trudge on.
In time, while riding on the trailer to the fields, I managed to even forget about it and focused on trying to keep the sun off my baby.
When we reached the field of pumpkins, it was 86 degrees.
It was hot.
I had my 2 month old with me.
And my bra was livin’ on a prayer.
I took my son and we picked out his pumpkin he will ‘carve’ with his grandparents next week, then we went to sit in the shade on the edge of the field.
The threads were still holding fast.
The anchor holds.
But the situation was precarious.
I knew at any moment, parts of my body were at risk to become suddenly freed from their fabric prison and appear like I had 2 raccoons fighting in my shirt.
I played it cool.
If the bra failed to do its job and left me hangin’ (literally), I would just pretend I didnt notice. LOL
Or that I was a hard-core feminist… you know, the type thats into ‘free-bleeding’ and all that jazz…
Or maybe people would just assume I was breastfeeding and I might whip them out in the open at any moment.
I thought of the innocent bystanding children that would be victims if what was left of my bra just shot off my body entirely; paralyzed with fear seeing a sudden flash of light illuminate the evening sky – coming from my Edward Cullen-like pasty white skin.
They would have to go to therapy.
I knew it.
I brushed the thought off and kept my son close in order to remove any tugging pressure on the garment.
We eventually made it back to the entrance of the farm and we collected our pumpkins to be paid for. Once the transaction was completed, we went our seperate ways – my mother returned with me to my house.
As soon as we got inside, I flew into making supper. I didnt have time to remember that my bra now had a mind of its own.
I changed clothes earlier and this was the damage I discovered…
It was a close one folks.