Mask/Bra Color is Everything…

Beautiful Bra/Beautiful Mask | Old bras, Beautiful mask, Bra

Yesterday I hit a wall. The Corona wall without one in hand. I felt lost. A little thirsty and out of my comfort zone with no where to turn other than social media laughter and a few news conferences which only brought gloom and doom with more concerns than comfort. During this season at home I have been doing everything to keep busy especially working out via online classes and walking with my partner in crime, the hubs of almost thirty-two years. I took a day off from my physical efforts, this was a mistake, I think. Could it be that all of those happy skinny people had something right all these years? Are endorphins really a legal happy pill. Now, I know you are thinking that at fifty-six years of age I should know this answer but my exercise regimen always consisted, with places to go people to see. Now, I have none. No one does. We sit alone and wait.

Today, not wanting that feeling to come over me again, I went to Walmart, usually a place that brings that feeling, and about a million reasons never to go again. Today, however, was different. I went with a pep in my step, ignored the bad parking and only shook my head at one women’s fluffy slippers and long head scarf coordinated with her hot pink shorts that skimmed her knees. That was a little shake and chuckle. But then, if I had such slippers and other accessories, would I not wear them. Frankly, who was I to judge, in my leggings and sweatshirt, my current standard uniform. I did shower and put on some make-up. So feeling like a true queen. It was great to be out. Then I went inside.

Surrounding me were masks and gloves galore. Last time I marched into the public eye I did not see the world as I did today. A war zone, people either panicked, ill or both I assume. No way of knowing, so I glanced fervently through the store and tried to lock eyes with others that did not have the new uniform in place to see if their eyes had the same panic starting to set in. Throughout my journey, up and down every aisle, to kill time and of course to check out the Easter loot, I found more in the medical garb than less. My gait started to quicken as my basket was already full of plastic eggs, bubbles, dye, and of course the needed Easter apron, that is if you are Betty Crocker or slightly insane, and I qualify for the latter. Starting to fill the basket for the real needs of frozen tater tots, and the last bag of strawberries for my smoothies. This family has a definite division in eating habits and needs during this time, and that’s OK. Anything to get us through the day, I have wine, he has tater tots. We also have plenty of Carmex if anyone is in need. Once done and standing in line I watched the cashier, she looked concerned and eyed me up and down looking for signs or something and I stood wondering whether she would check me out or call for back-up. She ushered me through and we began to do the dance back and forth with the scanning, bagging, and placing in the cart all to stay six feet away. I wished her a great day and thanked her for her service but she is already eyeing the next customer. At least I no longer felt alone.

The fresh air felt great and my thoughts started to lighten, until I got home. I shared my my outing and the hubs, who is always positive and the words he uttered shocked me in response to my story. “Probably the new attire.” Laughingly, I asked. “Will we have to wear them.” His answer was hesitant. “We will see, it looks like it.” Then I panicked. I don’t sew, there is the bra version I could maneuver or perhaps the EMT son has an extra or two. Probably not, so now I sit wondering which bra I should wear, and which one the hubs should wear. Around our faces of course.

Whatever we choose as a guard it will probably be black and come with a very chic story.

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