Underwearaphobia

One thing I don't want to happen as people read about our story is for Cory to become her illness.  I know she felt that way so many times, as if that was the only thing about her that would matter to people.  So I feel the need to sprinkle some Cory stories in with the rest of these posts.  Just really, sit back and get a load of my girl:

When Cory was a preteen, she was absolutely mortified to buy – or be in close proximity to – undergarments of any kind in public.  She called her irrational fear “underwearaphobia” and claimed that it was common, striking many girls around the age of 10. 

 She suggested that I :  a) begin to order our underwear through the mail  or b)  learn to sew.   Since I:   a) love to shop and b) cannot thread a needle, I took a slightly different approach:  aversion therapy. 

 Feeling it my responsibility to work her through this unnatural anxiety, I did my God-given duty as her mother, and trooped her into Victoria’s Secret to admire their craftsmanship every chance I got.  She improved slowly over time. 

It got to be that every time we traipsed through Target, she was magnetically drawn to the bras, insisting, "Hey, Mom, can we pick up a couple new bras for me- I barely have any."  Now, I am a little shamefaced to admit we frequented Target almost weekly.  Eventually, I began to realize she had to have a pretty solid collection going, although she claimed to only have four bras, five tops.  One Sunday afternoon as I pestered her to get her laundry together -a task she would often avoid until the only other choice was to become a nudist- I decided to get to the bottom of it.  I climbed the stairs to her room, and systematically searched her drawers, finding not four, not five, but 23 bras!!  Twenty three, people!  I just sat down and laughed till I nearly cried.  There was not a word I could say since I knew I had no less than fifty in my own drawers.  I guess after awhile, we all really do become our mothers.

Even Jacob got in on the act as the years went along.  A couple of years back, Cory was invited to go on vacation with my sister and her family.  As she had her toes done at the mall, Jake and I snuck into Victoria's Secret.  I think the fact that Jacob was happy as a clam to help pick out colors and patterns of underwear for his teenage sister speaks volumes about his love and dedication to her.  Was he embarrassed?  Perhaps.  But his love for her and desire for her happiness far outweighed it.  You should have seen his solemn little face bent over those drawers, hunting right along with me for her size.  Finally, after he had duly absorbed the atmosphere of Victoria's Secret...the delicious flowery scent in air, the beautiful displays of color, the happy chatter of conversation, he whispered, "Mom, Victoria's Secret is like a candy store for girls."  Good Lord, when that boy grows up, the women are going to absolutely swarm him.

 As you can gather, it soon became that her favorite thing to be given was new underwear or a new bra.  I had created an undergarment monster.   On her 17^th Christmas, I stuffed her stocking full of candy colored panties.  On Christmas morning, she pulled them all out, and in the extremity of her delight, tossed them over her head like confetti. 

 I smiled proudly;  aversion therapy complete.