(I am about twelve and I am quite “developed.” My mother is taking me shopping for a bra. As we do not have a lot of funds, she takes me to the local hypermarket.)
Mom: *walks up to service counter in clothes department* “Is there any way we could have somebody come over and help us look for a particular size bra?”
Employee: “Yes, I’ll call someone over.”
Mom: “Thanks.”
(We wait with our items until another employee shows up to help us.)
Employee: “Hello, ladies. I’m [Employee]. What can I help you with?”
Mom: “Ah, yes, we are looking for a bra in [size] for my daughter.”
Employee: “Well, she does look quite young. Are you sure she is ready for bras quite yet?”
Mom: “Yes, she has been wearing bras for a few years now. As you can see, she is quite developed.”
Employee: “I see. Well, come with me.”
(We follow her, and she takes us up to a display of what are obviously training bras.)
Employee: “Here you are! Now, getting used to wearing bras can be quite difficult, so I suggest wearing these ones here—”
Mom: “Um, ma’am? We aren’t looking for training bras; we are just looking for [size] for my daughter.”
Employee: “Oh, no, no, no. She needs to get used to wearing one of these first!”
Mom: “She has already been wearing them for quite a while now; I don’t think we will be needing those.”
Employee: “Of course; you will! Getting used to—”
(I cut in.)
Me: “Miss, you aren’t listening. I stopped wearing training bras when I was ten. I’ve been wearing regular bras for two years now. We know what we are talking about. Besides, I don’t think any of those would fit, anyway.” *gestures to my chest*
Employee: *looking shocked* “Well, I… I…”
Me: “Now, if you would kindly show us where we can find [size], that would be great.”
(The employee proceeded to take us to the proper section, giving my mother dirty looks the whole time. Honestly, the nerve of some people!)
