My mother is disturbed

I'm on the phone with my mother, who mentions that she is on her way to the outlet stores, and can she buy my some underwear?

Me: Heck, yeah: bras.
Mom: What kind?
Me: Um, the bra kind?
Mom: Noooo. Do you want cotton? Satin? Lace? Leather?
Me (chortling at "leather"): Um, I want pretty ones.
Mom: Do you want padded? Push-up?
Me: Yeah, the higher the better. In fact, if you can find one that lets me use my boobs as earmuffs, that would be great.
Mom: My daughter: the weirdo.
Me: Mmhm.

We go through other specifics - underwire, etc. - before she asks me the question that will resound in my brain forever:

Mom: Do you like the kind that shows your nipples?

There is a long silence, while my brain thrashes frantically in search of something to hold onto.

Me: ... What?
Mom: You know, with the cut-outs.

My brain stops thrashing, shudders once, flops over, and dies. Surviving now solely on instinct, I grasp for something neutral to say.

Me: Well.... what if it gets cold?
Mom (laughing): I didn't think of that.