Skip to main content

Dad's Day In The Lingerie Store

It was a Saturday morning when Sam’s 12-year-old daughter, Lily, burst into the kitchen, arms crossed and a look of utter determination on her face.  

“Dad,” she declared, “I need a bra.”  


Sam, mid-bite of his bagel, choked. “A... a what now?”  


“A bra, Dad,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “You know, for... support.”  

Sam blinked, trying to process this sudden leap from cartoons to... *this*. “Uh, shouldn’t we wait for your mom to—”  

“She’s at that yoga retreat,” Lily interrupted. “And I can’t wait. It’s an emergency.”  


An emergency? Sam glanced at her chest, instantly regretting it because she glared at him like he’d just asked her to solve calculus. “Right. Emergency. Bra. Sure. Let’s do this.”  


Twenty minutes later, they were at the mall, standing outside a store that looked like it had been dipped in pink glitter and perfume. Sam read the sign aloud: “*Lacey’s Lovely Lingerie.*”  


He gulped. “Are you sure this is the place?”  


Lily shot him a look. “Do you see bras anywhere else, Dad?”  


He didn’t. So, with a deep breath and a prayer to the god of clueless fathers, he stepped inside.  


The store was an explosion of lace, satin, and pastel colors. Sam felt like he’d walked into a secret garden he was *definitely* not supposed to see. A chirpy saleswoman appeared out of nowhere, her smile so wide it could’ve powered the mall.  


“Hello! Can I help you find something?” she asked, her gaze flicking between Sam and Lily.  


Sam stammered. “Uh, yeah, we’re—she’s—uh, it’s her first, you know, uh... bra.”  


The saleswoman clapped her hands. “Oh, how exciting! First bras are a big deal!”  


Sam nodded weakly. Lily, meanwhile, was looking at her phone, trying to act like she wasn’t associated with the sweating, fumbling man next to her.  


The saleswoman led them to a section labeled *“Tween Essentials.”* Sam tried to focus on the bras, but all the colors and patterns made his head spin. There were unicorns, polka dots, flowers—one even had *“Girl Power”* written in glittery letters.  


“Lily, what about this one?” he asked, holding up a neon pink option with a cat face on it.  


Lily glanced up and groaned. “Dad, I’m not five. Put that down.”  


“Right, right,” he muttered, hastily shoving it back.  


The saleswoman, clearly enjoying herself, handed Lily a few options. “Why don’t you try these on, sweetheart? Dressing rooms are right over there.”  


As Lily disappeared into the fitting room, Sam was left standing awkwardly among the racks of bras, wondering if it was possible to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.  


Five minutes later, Lily called out, “Dad, I need help!”  


Sam froze. “What kind of help?”  


“The strap is all twisted, and I can’t fix it!”  


Sam glanced at the saleswoman, who smiled sympathetically. “Go ahead, Dad. She needs you.”  


Taking a deep breath, Sam approached the fitting room door. “I’m coming in, but I’m not looking, okay?”  


Lily groaned. “Just fix it, Dad!”  


He stepped inside and found her standing there, arms akimbo, wearing a bra that looked like it had been wrestled by a tornado. After a few minutes of fumbling, twisting, and mumbling things like, “How does anyone put these on?” Sam finally got it right.  


“Better?” he asked, stepping back.  


Lily examined herself in the mirror and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”  


Sam felt a swell of pride. He had faced the bra beast and survived.  


Back at the register, as they were checking out, Lily looked up at him and said, “You’re not so bad at this, you know.”  


Sam grinned. “Thanks. But next time, we’re waiting for your mom.”  


The saleswoman chuckled as she handed over the bag. “You did great, Dad. Welcome to the club.”  


As they left the store, Lily slipped her hand into his, something she hadn’t done in years. Sam smiled, thinking maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t such a clueless dad after all.  


That is, until Lily said, “Next week, we need to go shopping for deodorant.”  


Sam groaned. Parenthood was a never-ending adventure.  



Hello Guys,

Thank you for reading the story. Hope you like it. I like to write based on random imagination or moments I have witnessed. Hope you enjoy reading these stories.

Please like, comment and share with fellow readers.

Happy Reading!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Path in the Mist

"Fine. You’re the ‘native.’ You tell me how to find our way back." That’s what I said to her, my tone sharp enough to cut through the dense fog. I’ll admit it—my patience was hanging by a thread. Being lost in the middle of nowhere has a way of turning every little thing into a personal grievance. She didn’t seem fazed. Instead, she gave me a slow, measured blink, the kind that hinted she had all the time in the world. Her name was Maren, and she looked every bit like someone who thrived in this kind of situation—mud-crusted boots, a battered leather satchel slung casually over her shoulder, and an expression that said she was used to people underestimating her. “Well?” I pressed, throwing my arms out toward the endless sea of trees. Maren tilted her head slightly, her dark curls catching what little light filtered through the mist. “Are you done throwing your little tantrum?” “Excuse me?” “Look,” she said, brushing off my indignation. “You’re the one who decided to wander of...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Ripple

 “I knew it was a mistake the moment it was over.” The words echoed in my mind as I stared at the faint glow of the Interface, its translucent edges flickering in and out of focus. My hands hovered over the reset panel, trembling. The room around me seemed to hold its breath, a sterile silence broken only by the hum of the machine. It had started as an experiment. A chance to correct the smallest regrets—the things that keep you awake at night and pile like dust on the edges of your life. The Interface was supposed to change everything. Literally. “Just a second,” I’d said when the technician warned me about cascading effects. “All I need is to fix one second.” One second. That’s all it took to lose her. I’d stepped out to answer a call that night. When I came back, the car was gone, and so was Amy. It wasn’t until the next morning they found the wreckage, a crumpled heap of steel at the bottom of the canyon. They told me she’d probably been fiddling with the radio, that it wasn’t ...
Post a Comment
Read more