WARNING: The following may contain TMI (Too Much Information) and politically incorrect American points-of-view

 

I knew I was back in Paris when I got off the train from London and noticed a very attractive, thin woman in a white normal-looking-shirtwaist dress, with slide slits up to her tush, holding hands with her boyfriend and carrying a large motorcycle helmet. The women here are women who roar with sex appeal and Fahda has joined their ranks. I have never seen Fahda so well put together in her stunning clothes and steep high heels. She oozes with joie de vivre and is after me to loosen up and exhibit better fashion style.

 

And so she’s been teaching me how to be more of a “Frenchie.” She’s very concerned that I’m not expressing my inner feline enough. She tells me to unbutton my blouse more and show some cleavage, and heck, while I’m at it, show some bra with that. She thinks I should wear more stylish, fitted, tighter clothes and high heels - show better taste. But I’m happy just to blend in with the walls. I’ve put on so much weight that I don’t have a waistline anymore, I can’t wear fitted clothes AND my feet are so messed up that I can hardly wear any shoes, let alone HIGH heels. But, today I gave in and let her take me out to find a Frenchie bra. We arrived at the department store Au Printemps and started to make our way thru the lingerie department in search of a bra without under wire. (I need to avoid wire because of my breast cancer surgeries.) That leaves out the wonder bra with the pump that we see on display.

 

In the middle of the lingerie dept. we happen upon a what-we-would-call-in-the-United-States a sex shop. At first it looks like the bras on display are just more vavoom sexy and colorful. Then I notice lots of feathery, fluffy things to wear, and some long plastic-looking devices. Upon closer inspection, we realize that what we are looking at is an assortment of dildos in colors that look like they were designed by the Hello Kitty people. We are also staring at candy thongs and all kinds of tasty body products that came in all sorts of applications. The very provocative saleslady dusts Fahda’s hand with some sort of chocolate powder and Fahda turns a shade of pink when she realizes that it is designed for licking. We see a very respectable looking woman, a bit older than me, buying something and I can’t help but wonder what it is. Whatever, we decide she is going to have a good evening and we are off to resume our search for a Frenchie bra.

 

Each bra designer offers its own saleswoman and own dressing room so you can’t just romp about the place gathering up things to try on all at once. You must display a lot of patience and try each bra on, one label at a time, being guided by that brand’s saleslady, in their particular dressing room. After trying on some bras that seemed more like ace bandages with plunging neck lines, and getting to know a few different dressing rooms and salesladies, I found a very helpful saleslady and she and Fahda managed to find me some very lacy, black and navy, pushy-uppy, WIRELESS! winners. This was not easy work but I am now proudly basking in the glow of success.