Gertrude's Bras

Two or three years ago, buying bras was a big deal for Gertrude. After initial trials and errors, she finally found a store and sales attendant that could measure then find the particular brand of lingerie that could sustain her profile.

No more.

First, she broke her left wrist. Before that particular catastrophe, Gertrude had donned her bras with the usual struggles and contortions that enabled her to get the little hooks into the little metallic circles, reinforcing her profile. This maneuver was impossible with just one functioning hand. It was (oddly) her accountant who advised her: fasten it first then just slip in on over your head. It worked.

Then came the pandemic. The store with the wonderful sales attendant closed. Indeed, many things closed and [although she never tested the premise] Gertrude assumed that going to any store, working with any sales attendant, and trying things on would [if not illegal] risk serious contagion and/or death.

Time sagged. Gertrude sagged.

One day while sorting through the usual avalanche of mostly junk mail, Gertrude saw a catalog for female underwear. Guessing which might be the right size and variety, she placed an order.

Ten days later, the catalog bra arrived {ironically, in a padded envelope]. She unwrapped the item, fastened the hooks, and slipped it over her head and shoulders and yanked it down to the appropriate latitude. It worked. Or at least worked well enough.

So, hooray! Gertrude’s spirits and anatomy were lifted.