40 & Molested: My David’s Bridal Experience

If I wasn’t going for a friend. If it wasn’t her big day. Lord, if her momma wasn’t there. I would have went off. What am I talking about? Me, a 40 year old grown %%% woman got molested while shopping for a Matron of Honor dress at David’s Bridal! I’m not crazy, she really went too far. *Full disclosure-this post is not up to my usual standards. I was really upset about this situation, so please forgive me if it’s a bit raw. But I just wanted to warn you about some people. Not everyone is this disrespectful, but if someone tries to get in your bubble of personal space or permittable distance, be ready.

Let me give the back story. A friend of 10+ years asked me to be her Matron of Honor. So sweet and unexpected! So when people ask me to do things like that, I want no attention drawn to myself. I’d gone with her to get her bridal gown at this David’s Bridal location and that was a breeze, so I really (stupidly) expected the same level of professionalism and ease this time. Boy, was I mistaken…

Let me get right to it. I needed a dress with straps. Those who know me and have seen me live & in color know I’m busty. You also know that me saying I’m busty is a huge, laughable understatement. Yeah, I got enough for all y’all. I’ve had countless requests to donate “just a little bit” of mine followed by the comment that I wouldn’t even miss it.  So with all this I’m carrying, strapless wasn’t gonna happen. No, I’m not jiggling and jangling down the aisle for anyone (well, for my hubby of course, but this wasn’t the time or place for that!)

This girl (the sales lady) kept bringing me:

Halter dresses (the kind that close behind the neck and give instant side boob-Oh. GOD. No.)

Empire cut (the kind that tells your boobs where they should start and stop. No, these girls are not the boobs for that! They go where they wanna, when they wanna. You do the accommodating.  You fit them, not fit into something for you, thank you!),

Sheer top (I’m about to get a little vinegary at this point. Lady, did you not hear me say “Only bring dresses with straps”?? Obviously it’s to cover my bra that I currently was wearing that I plan to wear in the ceremony!  So no, sheer top with my bra straps showing would not be classy, but trashy!)

And any other dress she could find that didn’t fit the bill. At this point, I’m not thinking good things about her. Honestly, I’m thinking she’s a dip. That’s not nice, but that’s how I was feeling.

At this point I figure she’s not listening to me and the bride has 2 other appointments to get to in about an hour, so I just go browse by myself. I found one I liked that was the right color, length & was classy, but I wasn’t sure it would cover everything. I had tried 3 sizes of the dress and found one that was almost perfect. I’d slipped on the best fitting dress, stepped out to get the bride’s opinion and stated to the assistant that I needed a size larger to see if it would have more coverage up top (I demonstrated by gesturing with my hands on my chest where the “area of lack” was).

Then she does it.

She completely crosses the line.


She touches my BOOBS.

She touches MY boobs.

SHE touches my boobs.


I was SOOOOOOOOO mad. I mean so mad that it was lava like. So mad that until the bride reads this, she will have absolutely no idea how mad I was. I mean, y’all if we had been in the street and this little girl had tried some mess like that……………………………………………………………………………
Sorry, I needed all those dots to come back to a place where I could write again. I was ticked. So as she’s sitting there, cupping my chest, I’m trying to think of how to get this chick off me without ME going to jail. So I put my hands over hers, put them together in a praying position and as gently as I could muster, pushed them back to her. I said, “No baby, we don’t do that. You don’t touch those.” Her response? “Oh, I was just trying to see where the fabric cut off.” As she’s smiling and laughing. Not in an “I’m sorry & I’m embarrassed because I realized I just overstepped & could lose my job or get written up” way, but like it was funny because she thought I was old fashioned and that I should have been cool with her cupping my girls!


No, y’all. There are no words. And I mean this when I say it. The ONLY reason she didn’t get told off was because it was all about the bride. I will still contact the manager at a later date. I need to let the lava cool to a crisp so I can even speak about it to a manager there without all this emotion. For those who think it’s no big deal, ok. You can let whoever touch your boobs and think it’s not a big deal. If that’s the life you’re about, cool. My body, my boobs and no, it’s not cool to reach out and touch someone without their consent. Shooooot. You could lose your pulse messing around like that.

So, how does this story end? I interacted with her as little as possible. I tried to give her another chance to handle the dress picking, but once again, there she went, zipping me down past the top of my undies (maybe she was curious if they matched the bra??) even after she’d seen me do all my zipping and unzipping (except where she gave me a dress with a jammed zipper-had I known I would have unjammed it so she wouldn’t need to zip me down to my drawers).

I’d had it. I pulled the seamstress to the side and asked her if she could help me find a dress that could accommodate “all this”. She got it right on the first try. Didn’t take 5 minutes for her to walk me to the area, find my size in an available color and walk back to the fitting room. That’s how long it took. And guess what??? SHE NEVER TOUCHED MY BOOBS! Even when she told me I’d have to get the straps shortened, she adjusted the BACK of the dress and never touched me once.

Maybe I’m over reacting. But I have been assisted countless times and have only had foolishness like this occur when I was buying my own wedding dress almost 20 years ago. It was even worse than this situation, though. Two perverted old ladies called themselves “adjusting” me while I was getting into the top of my gown. Um, I’ve been handling this since the day they arrived.  I got this, thanks!  Even they got told off. I wasn’t so sweet in my 20s.

Anyway, maybe I shouldn’t get so offended. When you carry around these two magnificent, hypnotic, delightful accessories, I guess you should be prepared for some crazy folk to want to “handle the merchandise”. But they are not for sale and DEFINITELY NOT for handling.  There’s only one deemed worthy to handle all this, and it took him giving me his last name for him to get to hold these cups without asking!  So don’t mess up.  You will draw back a nub. You have been warned…

Until next time, this is “My Cup Runneth Over” signing out!

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