Memoirs of a
Brassiere
Caroline Lewis
Bonjour. I speak to
you now from a secluded place,
Dark, and consisting
of minimal space.
I don’t have much
time, but I’ll try to portray
My story to the
outside world today.
Oui, I feel my tale
is one that needs to be shared,
For not many know of
our perspective in the affair.
In truth, many
overlook the difficulty of our trade,
But I shall educate
you on the hardships we’ve paid.
Not exactly the
“glamorous” life as Americans would say;
Light is minimal, and
the shifts last all day.
Heavy lifting for
hours upon hours of melancholy,
Depended on to
reverse the effects of gravity.
Not considering the
implausibility of such a demand,
Humans continue to
pressure us for sheer perfection.
Sadly, mi amour was
returned to the shelves after only one day,
Didn’t perform well
enough in “fitting” the right way.
Sacrebleu! And the
men, I cannot tell you how much I despise,
Singlehandedly,
trying to cause our demise.
Do they not
understand, is it so enigmatic,
That to remove one of
us you simply unlatch a piece of plastic?
Fighting the constant
fear of replacement from bore,
Competition augmented
by the secret Victoria has in store.
Producing models,
padded to make an A cup look like a C,
Just false
advertisement, if you ask me.
Alas, my story is
told, my time is up,
And I say to my kind
in the outside world, good luck.
You must stay strong,
for if you don’t gravity prevails,
Hold your two straps
in the air with pride and continue your sail.
And for those of you
that are not of my sort, I ask one simple request;
The next time you see
a bra, please treat it with a little more selflessness.
Consider its journey
and the turmoil that ensues,
From my covert
location I bid you, Adieu.
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