Woods - Full Support

Amberjack Publishing

1472 E. Iron Eagle Dr.

Eagle, ID 83616

amberjackpublishing.com

This is a work of creative nonfiction. It is nonfiction in that this is a true story based on the authors memories, and creative in that the author has expanded on her memory to build a richer narrative. The events contained herein are accurate to the best of the authors memory. Minor details that do not impact the story have been changed as necessary to protect the privacy of individuals mentioned in it.

Copyright 2019 by Natalee Woods

Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, in part or in whole, in any form whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Publishers Cataloging-in-Publication data available upon request

ISBN 978-1-944995-805

ebook ISBN 978-1-944995-812

For my parents,
who always lifted me up.

S taring at her breasts, I backed away to examine the fit of her bra. Glaring lights and long, three-section mirrors crowded our space, giving the dressing room an uncomfortable, mystifying feeling as we moved in silence.

Youre in, I smiled, adjusting the straps before running my hand along the bras underwire. I waited while she analyzed her body in the mirror, moving from her midsection to her new, G-sized cups. The power these things can hold, she said before she lifted her boobs to kiss them. Amen.

My customers memorable sentiment echoed throughout my unexpected trajectory in the lingerie department. For more than a decade, from the time I was nineteen, I fit women for bras and other pieces of lingerie in a high-end department store. I never imagined just how much the experience would change meand my relationship with my body. The narratives from inside the dressing room, poignant and raw, have been an integral part of my life for so long, guiding me through a long stretch of confusing purgatory and a lot of self-reflection. Im honored to share them in their truest, most vulnerable form as a listener and a learner. Im humbled to share what can happen when we let another human being in far enough to teach us something about ourselves, significantly our worth, as well as the dangers that exist within a culture that continues to cast shadows over our humanity, disparaging those who do not measure up to predetermined standards.

Id be remiss to not address my total lack of interest in working retail, fitting strangers for bras. The intimacy was downright startling, and the discourse unpredictable yet unflinchingly honest. For years, I struggled to understand the changing nuances and messy complexities of working in a lingerie department amid a cold and critical world. Each day, Id experience a surge of emotions ranging from utter heartbreak to euphoria, bouncing my own thick flesh off demi push ups and binding string. And though I had many aha moments throughout the years, pushing me to question a multitude of socially conditioned ideals in the context of women and womens bodies, it still took a long time to fully grasp the significance and lasting impact of my role as a bra fitter. The impression that working retail is easy and stress-free was constantly challenged and far removed from the truth. Women shared so much more than their bodies, commanding time and space without even realizing it, which was precisely what made my interactions in the dressing room so powerful.

One of my most memorable customers, eighty-six-year-old Gladys Brown (names have been changed to protect privacy), taught me on multiple occasions about the nature of ageism to make people invisible and the influence of time. She reminded me that the passage of time, daunting and deliberate, carries us to the places were supposed to be while introducing us to the people were destined to meet.

Claire Whittler, a transgender woman whose father disowned her for being Claire, defined the true meaning of empathy and what it means to love unconditionally and with gratitude. Nicole, a single mother and bad-to-the-motherfucking-bone stripper, propelled me to dig deep and examine the intricacies of my own sexuality and self-confidence, igniting one hell of a fire. She was fierce and forthright, and it was while listening to her talk about her work with a private will to persist that I realized I had real, authentic stories to tell.

So, I began documenting my days by jotting down notes, observations, and words exchanged on receipt paper from the registers. I would come home from a long, exhausting shift, rip off my bra, and all of these beautifully bold narratives would fall from my cups, reminding me about the power of humanity ... and that I had stuffed my already-packed double-D bra with wads of white paper.

The presence of these valued lessons also got me thinking about the reality of the dressing room and the act of moving alongside a half-dressed or, often, fully naked woman. Its hard to articulate the actualities of the job. Specifically, my place, coupled with my gaze, inside an already vulnerable space as women self-consciouslyand assertivelybared their breasts.

I cant tell you how many times I stood silent, having no idea where to stand or what to say as customers removed their clothing. It was awkward at first. But over time, if Im completely honest, my gaze became a natural part of the process. I was there to examine ones breasts in order to fit them into a bra, which required eyeballs and a lot of trial and error. Throw in a womans extraordinary capacity to share her fears and insecurities and deeply compelling perspective on loss and love, and I was left scrambling for words with a pair of boobs in my face. It was part of the job, and my focus on each customers body remained a constant.

When I look back at how Full Support transpired and where we are now as a societyprofoundly, our unstoppable and steadfast womens liberation movementI cant help thinking about the timing of this project, especially as we continue to resist, rage on, and redefine a culture by being our true selves. My experience working in a lingerie department was humbling, and I hung up my measuring tape eager and excited to write this book, knowing that most women can relate, or, perhaps, gain new perspective.

Please understand that Im not here to bullshit anyone. But out of respect for all involved, Ive taken the liberty to make some modifications. As you read, please note that the names and other identifying characteristics of the persons included in this book have been changed. The timeline has also been slightly altered in order to preserve peoples anonymity.

Im so grateful for your time. Thank you for reading. Lets continue to share our stories. Lets continue to transform, galvanize, and amplify our inner workings in an effort to lift others. Lets leave our marks behind ... without apology.

Sincerely,

Natalee

M y heart wouldnt stop pounding. I could feel my hands warm up as sweat settled into the creases. Women were running in every direction as the pianists hospitable tune echoed throughout the store. Coffee and water bottles and colorful balloons strategically placed in every department gave the first day of the annual sale a little bit of friendly oomphand the stamina for customers to keep their plastic out. Seasoned sales associates gathered around the escalator and clapped, welcoming more women as they rushed to collect their sale items before they were gone. I could hear children crying across the way in the kids department as their balloons found their way to the ceiling, floating beyond reach.