CCCXVI

I confess. I was the person who started the great Bra Wars. In some dusty corner. The Gossard Wonderbra. The plot thickened when the Sarah. Battle of the bras. By armored cars. Anyway I'm over. The joke -- for someone who's supposed to be big on bras. I've had two children since my first encounter. No matter. No matter -- I don't care. Small breasts are chicer. And anyway visible nipples are not quite on for a mother. I was okay in the winter. What I'm after I think is a bra. A comic strip bra. They tell us that women are. They tell us that women are getting smaller. And dear reader. I have no one to blame but myself but everywhere as far. As far as the eye can see there. As far as the eye can see there are. As far as the eye can see there are underwires. No more. There are women who will suffer for. A nonunderwired bra. Beware. Beware of the words Contour Creepy Polyester. It's a Stepford wife bra. If you wore one you would have to have a frilly apron and a Hoover. My hopes began to lift when I came across the Playtex Thank Goodness It Fits bra. Nearly A. Perfectly A. And Nearly B size -- fitted on an A rather. Despair! Even flatter or nasty truth ... 20 years younger. What's more. Where will I wear? Underwear drawers. That we never wear. Quite a lot to achieve in one little wisp of a bra;