Wednesday, July 7, 2010


I am trying something new. I've been doing that a lot lately. Well, "they" say it's good for you. I am going to ~ just for today ~ attempt to blog in the manner of Kristin. Today I, too, shall bring pretty back.

My nanny spent her last days in a nursing home. I can't say she had Alzheimer's because she always knew who my father was when we came to visit her. However, she never knew how old she was and she forgot how to work the elevator. They diagnosed her with senile dementia and she had to wear an ankle monitor because she was a flight risk. On one of our visits, she needed to use the facilities, and I helped her. The whole role reversal thing between grandparents and grandchildren is not entirely comfortable. Whenever nudity is involved, that is when it becomes the most unnerving.

The using of the facilities should have gone off without a hitch. It didn't. When nanny pulled up her pants (they had an elastic waist), she caught her breast in the waistband of the pants. Before I could say anything, she walked back into her room where my dad was waiting. Mini explosions were going off in my brain. My dad is sitting in the guest chair when I sit down next to nanny on the bed. My brain is now racing with the best way to discreetly let her know that her boob is caught in her pants. Before I can latch onto anything, my mind jumps tracks altogether.

Holy crap. How can she not know? Surely that would pinch. If someone reached over and pinched me, I would know it. Has nature not only been really unkind with gravity (because this is definitely not pretty), but has she lost every last bit of sensation in that area?

You're probably wondering about the outcome: did I or did I not tell her? I don't remember. It was horrific. I don't think I did. I mean, if she can't feel it, what does it matter? It would only embarrass her.

What did happen that day: I became a firm believer in a supportive bra. I don't believe in wearing one to bed. And there was one ding-a-ling that I went to college with that went on and on about how she had to wear two bras because her boobs were so big. They weren't that big. I think that she thought that talking about them would make them grow. Whatever. So, unless you want to subject your grandkids to decisions about whether or not they should tell you that your breast is caught in the waistband of your pants, make sure you are doing your part and wearing a supportive bra. Gravity is a bitch.

Have a pretty day.



  1. hahaha I thought I came to the wrong blog! When you do me you have full freedom to take the mickey out of me!

  2. After reading a couple magazine articles about wearing the right supportive bra and hearing about that Oprah show where she finds out that more than half the audience is wearing the wrong size, I can spot an ill-supported chest a mile away! Mine might be tiny (padding needed!) but they're in the right place on my chest, not down at my waist! A small thing to, as you and Kristen say, bring pretty back!

  3. And now for something completely Robin. Who knew?

  4. lol having turned 40 in Feb I know how much of a bitch gravity can be lol. Poor Nanny lol

  5. okay - oh my godddd?! that's something I've never heard about before! wow. sometimes I see such old ladies in church or somewhere and they do look like they might get into the same kind of *trouble* but, haha, this is too funny. This is something that could be in Woody Allen's movie!


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