Bosom Buddies

This my Free Write Friday piece that came to me today while on my walk. I have no idea why exactly it came to me. It just did.

Bosom Buddies

“Oh, my god Carol. Is your bra too small? Whatever are you doing?”

Linda watched as her best friend of the last fifty-five years worked at putting her bra on in the lady’s gym locker room after their shower. Linda had felt comfortable asking such a bold question. After all, they grew up together and were like sisters.

“I mean,” Linda continued, “You look like you are really struggling there to turn it around. When I turn my bra around it just zips right along. I think your bra might be too small.”

Linda dropped her towel and picked up a bra that looked like something a twenty-year old would wear. Her bra looked at least twenty years old itself. Perhaps there had been a time in Linda’s life when she could get away with wearing a bra so tiny and delicate. However, a voluptuous woman in her late sixties probably could not.

“My god, that thing is huge. What kind of bra is that? Does Harold find that thing attractive?”

Harold was Carol’s husband of forty-eight years. He stopped looking at her or any woman for that matter years ago. He had been content to hide in the musty basement carving ducks out of wood well past midnight most evenings.

Linda never held things back. She spoke her mind as a service to her best friend Carol. A good best friend always spoke the truth, no matter what.

“Watch.” Linda clasped her tiny bra on just under her large bosom. The stretched-out lace with faded pink flowers disappeared into the soft white folds of her sides and back. It made the bra look even smaller. She spun it around like a mix-master D.J. and slipped her arms through thin narrow strands of more lace and tugged the straps over her shoulders.

Her boobs hung even farther than they did without the bra. If that were even possible. They had separated and fell down to the middle of her torso.

“Oh my god, Carol. Now what are you doing?” Linda clutched her chest with her left hand and covered her open mouth with her right. It was her duty as the best friend to get to the bottom of this.

Carol is bent over. From her vantage she can clearly see her body is not what it once had been. Five kids and the years had taken a toll on her once svelte body. Not that it mattered to Carol. She guided her breast, which were generous, soft and pillowy, into each cup with care. While still bent over she slid her arms through the wide straps and glided them over her shoulders. Before she stood up, she took her hands and swaddled each breast, while carefully she readjusted them and placed them to the center of their cups.

“I saw this on Oprah once years ago.” Carol has deemed there is no point arguing with Linda; she is always right. Carol also knew that the next sixty-five words would go in one ear and out the other. Sometimes she just liked to say things anyway. She liked to hear her own voice from time to time.

“She had this lady on her show who was some kind of bra guru.” Carol continued. “She talked about sizing, what kind of bra fits best for all shapes and such. She showed Oprah right on television just how to pick up the girls and properly place them in your bra. Said an improper fit can age a woman. They should be up high on your chest.”

Carol would never tell her best friend how she looked older than necessary. She would never tell Linda old men still liked looking at a beautiful woman, no matter what their age. She also would never tell her best friend she was sleeping with Mr. Jones from the Retired Readers of Classic Mysteries Book Club. He loved the way her ta-ta’s looked, he told her every time they hooked up. Linda hadn’t been laid in decades, she told Carol about it every time they were together.

At that, Carol stood up, her boobs firmly placed at the top of her ribcage. She grasped her girls and gave a gentle push.

“Well, hello friends.”