The Sexy Sexagenarian and Black Bra Incident at Wal*Mart

by Bella Rum

Even though it snowed all day yesterday, we only got a couple of inches. It was one of those slow and lazy snows, not fast and furious. A March snow would normally melt immediately, but it’s hanging around because it’s cold out there.

H had to go to his pulmonary guy yesterday morning. I LET 🙂 him use MY new car because it has all-wheel drive. He’s getting too attached. I may not let him drive it again for a couple of weeks.

We were pretty concerned about H’s lungs a few years ago. He has a history of smoking, but he quit eleven years ago. Thank God. He wishes he’d never smoked. Of course he does. That’s the way it is. Until you experience problems, you think that whatever you’re doing to your body – smoking, eating the wrong foods, whatever – you’ll have time to stop. There’s still time. You can still reverse the deleterious effects. We convince ourselves of this stuff.

Two years ago, an x-ray showed something of “concern”. So they’ve “watched” it ever since. This was a good Dr. visit. Nothing has changed, and they’re cutting him loose. Good stuff. He has some damage. His lungs are not what they could have been, but at this point life is good.

We had to do a few errands this morning. Grocery shopping was on the list. We stopped by Walmart. Just as we were about to enter, H said, “Somebody lost their bra.”

Leave it to him to notice something like that straight away. Luckily I had my small camera with me. I knew you’d want to see it, so like any blogger worth her salt, I snapped a pic for you. It was strapless and black. H wondered aloud about several (I think unlikely) scenarios that could have led to its presence at Walmart’s doors. Further, unbefitting a gentleman, he suggested that very few Walmart shoppers could fit into that bra. He gave much consideration to the owner of this undergarment. Too much, methinks. 100_2038
A lady was exiting as I was taking  the photo. She went past me with her grocery-filled cart, stopped, turned and came back to watch. Feeling I had to explain (because I’m like that), with a straight face, I told her that I was a blogger and assured her that this would be on the internet in a couple of hours. I think I made it sound legitimate and maybe important because her face lit up and she started unzipping her outer coat.

H and I both thought she was about to show us her bra. When we returned home, H assured me that he had averted his gaze at that particular point. But all she revealed was another coat underneath. She zipped that one up to her neck and said, “This way you won’t see my face so much.” Then she snatched up the bra, held it up to her own breasts and cozied up to H for a photo. You can not make this stuff up. Here’s the proof.


Is H blushing? I swear, I think he’s blushing. If you ask me, he looks all too happy in his school-bus yellow slicker and Santa shirt.

This lady was full of the good spirit with dimples that could kill, a cowboy hat that sported a butterfly, a purple coat and lavender, fingerless gloves. And… the bra looked like it could fit her!

God, I do love crazy people. Love ’em.

As she went on her way, she turned back with a big grin and said, ” When you’re sixty-seven, you can get away with anything.” Affected by her infectious personality, I laughed and said, “You look good for sixty-seven, honey.”

She started on her way again, but turned back one more time and said, “I know God’s looking down on me and saying, ‘There’s my little nutter… at it again.'”

When we finished our shopping and exited, the bra was no longer there.

H conjectured. “Do you think she returned to get it?”

“Yes, H. She’s wearing it this very minute.”

“My thoughts exactly.”