It's Kind of a Long Story... about SUPPORT (Part 1)

Separate and lift.

Hey Drama Goblins,

I was recently asked by a life coach to list my top three beliefs about time by finishing the sentence, “Time is… “

I answered:

1. A luxury. When I took a leave of absence last year, I learned that the secret of the world isn’t that there isn’t enough time to do everything, it’s that there isn’t enough time to do *anything* with the time, care, and attention it deserves.

2. Something I am misspending. Whatever it is I’m doing, I *should* be doing something else. I don’t believe that as much as I used to. I’m doing much better at accepting that downtime is OK, but it lingers.

3. All equal. Meaning, I should be able to work and get things done as long as I’m awake. The truth is, I get tired. It’s hard to start a project at 7:00 pm.

That lead into a discussion of how I spend my time and that I was feeling really maxed out. She asked a few more questions about my schedule and what I need and want to do. I said, “I guess I could say no to going to the play with my friends and spend that time working on marketing my Charm School classes.”

She said, “Oh no, don’t not do what brings you joy,”

I said, “Well, something’s gotta give, and lately that something has been taking care of my house and myself.” And then got that look on her face. That look I have seen from so many therapists, friends, and others when their well-intended suggestions hit the wall of my reality.

She really wanted to do her coach-y thing and help me move past limiting beliefs. I understand those. I also have hard limits to my time, energy, and resources.

Figuring out the difference between the two is the hard work of adulting.

Writing these Substacks is one way to help me do it.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lara

If the Bra Fits, You Must Admit

Short Story

I had a date to go bra shopping with a couple of friends. I was early. Six weeks early.

Long Story

“My friends are coming, I’ll just poke around,” me, to the lady at the Third Love bra shop. I’d planned to meet my friends for some retail girl-time and dinner.

I was a scooch early, but after 15 minutes passed, she came back and said, “How about I give you the presentation? Your friends will get the short version. They snooze, they lose!”

I laughed and she talked me through their bra styles. She was hilarious. A Black lady about my age. She said, “This is the T-shirt bra, that’s the most popular. This one is a little lift, not a push up, but you know, when you want to be a little extra. This is my favorite, it’s so comfortable. I didn’t think I could wear an unlined bra, but I love it.”

“Really?,” I asked, “The nipples showing aren’t a problem?”

”Well,” she conceded, “I wear it with a sweater or around the house. But, I love it when I do.”

Fair enough.

The time kept ticking and it was a small store and I had done as much poking around as I could. I decided to one on, just to kill time.

My new friend was so fun and helpful. She kept bringing me new sizes and styles and making me laugh with every visit back to the dressing room.

I was so irritated and confused that my friends were so late, without so much as a call or text, and at the same time felt so taken care of and at ease and was having so much fun with the bra lady.

The contenders and the winner.

It’s not a common experience for me to get this kind of service and attention. Most of my clothes are 2nd hand from thrift stores and yard sales. I buy underwear and shoes online. I shop at Safeway and pump my own gas. I go out to eat often, but at low and mid-priced restaurants with friendly service, but nothing luxurious.

I live alone and I’m not in a relationship. I don’t feel taken care of often.

I hadn’t intended to buy a bra when my friends and I hatched this scheme. I was just planning to hang out and advise. I don’t spend a lot of money on things like bras. I’ve been wearing reliable Calvin Klein T-shirt bras for years, purchased off the rack at Nordstrom Rack.

But, the combination of the sales lady giving me main character energy with her sike-kick wisecracks, and the pretty bra fitting me well loosened my wallet and I, Lara Starr, took it up to the counter prepared to pay the full price of $72.

The sales lady did me one more solid and gave me a first-time customer discount, knocking off about $15.

As I left we joked about my AWOL pals. I said, “I don’t understand it. I came the farthest. It was Vanessa’s idea in the first place to come here.” She said, “Well, Vanessa missed out. She loses!”

I posted in the group text, “I bought a bra. I’m going to walk around a bit.”

As I strolled around Fillmore Street and poked my nose in a few stores, the spell of the store wore off. My rational brain knew my dear old friends would not have ditched me. They’re not flaky. They like and love me. Why didn’t they text back?

And my lizard brain felt the shame, fear, and anxiety of being left behind. I was once again the kid who wasn’t invited or included. I was beating myself up for spending so much money on a bra I didn’t need. This is what you get. This is what you deserve.

As I was leaving a store, I thought, “Why haven’t they called me?” And then I thought, "Duh, you could call them.”

So I started with Daphne. It went right to voice mail. What? She’s not even picking up her phone?

Then I called Vanessa, who answered with a cheery, “What’s up?”

“I was at Third Love an hour ago. What happened to you guys?

“You were? Today? Oh honey. Our date is for November 3rd.”

Yup. I was six weeks early.

I honestly don’t know how that happened. I’d have to go back into my texts and figure it out. Daphne was coming in from out of town and we’d been talking about when we were availale and how much time we’d need before the shop closed at 5:00 and places to go for dinner and I dunno, the tone and texture of the conversation suggested the events were imminent, not more than a month away.

We laughed and she said she’d offer to meet me for dinner but she was working. I told her about the lady at the shop and how much fun she was and Vanessa laughed and said, “Maybe she can go out with you. She gets off at 5:00.”

I was glad that was sorted, but I felt like a dork. A dork with a new bra.

---

Once my Lizard Brain is switched on, it’s hard to switch it off. My mind was satisfied that the mystery was solved and no one had hurt me, but my nervous system was much slower to get the message. I still felt off. On edge. Chest tight. Stomach dropped. Shallow breath. Teeth clenched.

I took a deep breath or two. I learned in my Anxiety class that the deep breath goes to the amygdala, the part of your brain that anticipates fear and is kicked into high gear in response to any threat, real or imagined. Sending oxygen to the amygdala makes it smaller (or something) and helps you get back on track.

Sometimes it kinda works. I’m not a very good breather.

As I walked toward my car I got a text from my friend Denise with a photo of a rack of clothes, “All size L or XL. We all want to see you!”

To be continued…

Lara Sez…

Listen!

80’s Deep Cut of the Week! If you were a teen in LA in the 80s, every time you hear “Nova Scotia” you think, “… but I’m not”

Read!

I love books and movies about Hollywood. The Devil’s Candy offers a juicy insider’s look at how a bestselling book was turned into a box office bomb.

Watch!

I quite liked His Three Daughters. It’s a story you’ve seen before, but this interaction is elevated by the powerhouse acting trio of Carrie Coon, Natasha Lyonne and Elizabeth Olson.

Before I let you go…

The thumbnail image for this post is from an old Maidenform bra ad campaign in which women imagined themselves in all sorts of situations in their Maidenform bras. I love to share this one with my editor pals.