I wandered into a kids clothing store today as I was running some errands, and right in the front of the store was a big display of training bras for “girls age 7-14.” And every single one of them was PADDED. There was not a single normal one. I then proceeded to have a mental breakdown (duh). Listen, I totally tried to sneak and stuff tissues into my training bra when I was in the 5th grade. But this is different. It’s as if “boobs” is right there on each 9 year-old girl’s back to school list, right after graph paper and cap erasers (I don’t know if kids still use either of those things. I’m old). And at least when I attempted to stuff my bra, my mom quietly pulled me aside before taking me to school and asked me if I had tissues in there. Then she gave me a smirk and a little eye roll, and held out her hand. I took the tissues out and gave them to her. The look on her face at that moment told me all I needed to know. It told me that none of this stuff is that big of a deal. It told me that breast size doesn’t matter. It told me that I never need to try to change any part of my body. And I believed her. And I still do. I think of this moment often as a parent, because all the big life lessons I learned as a child weren’t taught by sitting down and having a “talk,” but through my parents unfiltered reactions to life as it happened. Mom, you probably don’t remember this at all, but I do. So thanks. Thanks for making my life a tiny bit easier in that 2 second eye roll you gave to the tissues in my bra. In a perfect world, every mom that walks into that store with their daughter would point and laugh, then they would forget the whole bra thing and go get ice cream.