I am hanging by the dusty cemented wall, and nobody has touched me since 2020 came. Inside my two cups, two spiders are making out. It makes me wonder if a spider can poison another spider of its kind with the same poison. The two spiders inside each of my cups have been laying eggs. I have watched these eggs hatch into tiny spiders that have grown up and left. A number of mosquitoes and flies have been murdered here. In my cups! My two beautifully designed cups. And do you know what is more heartbreaking? Is that my Indian cups have lost their meaning. Anika loved me because my cups massaged her breasts the way she wanted them held. She called me the sweetheart in her wardrobe.
The lining of my straps are dry; I have not touched water for years now. The hooks on my hind got tired too. They don’t shine like they used to when Anika junior would go for sporting. They have rusted to themselves, the crunch of wasted metal making it ugly. Even my wings that loved to massage Anika’s armpits are now fluffy, old, and beaten. When I was first made, I was purple in color. The kind of deep purple that matches a seamless wire free leisure bra; hurricane purple. After years of being abandoned, I have reduced to some confusing color.
My sister, who was owned by mother Superior, is nowhere to be seen. I haven’t seen her for years now. Was she buried inside mother Superior’s wardrobe? Never to be exhumed again? I miss her a lot. We used to meet once in a while in the buzzing cleaning machine. Sometimes we would meet at the hanging line, and watch the world around us upside down.
My life is better. Lopez was not lucky to survive 2020. When we were bought, we found her here. She was mother Superior’s favorite nude bra. I think it is because she matches with her skin color. She was standard, and beautifully tuxedo-trimmed. When 2020 came, a dangerous disease decided to come along too, uninvited. People were asked to quarantine and stay at home. The first days were not bad. We still got to be hung around. With time, we were not being worn anymore. Bras were abandoned, some in the bucket, some in the wardrobe, and some were not lucky to be bought from the malls.
After years of not being worn, we have lost taste. People with white coats inside massive labs were able to invent a vaccine for the infectious disease. With the disease kicked out, people went back to their old life. In fact, I hear they have conquered another planet. But I am sure they will not carry any bra with them. The new planet doesn’t have gravity. What would be pulling their breasts down anyway?
I think they should archive us in some cool building. So we can be used in history classes to teach kids what were bras and how important we were. That is why I am hanging here. Little Janet says my cups can be used to serve their playful kitten. I saw that kitten tear some underwear with its scary paws.
In 2020, we lost a lot. From Kobe the basketball legend, to Chadwick the Black Panther, to Naya Rivera the actress, to John Lewis the civil rights icon, to Zindzi Mandela the youngest daughter to Nelson Mandela, to Pierre Nkurunziza the Burundian President, to Clark Middleton the Blacklist star, and us, the Bras.
Ladies, how do you feel without us? We miss you.
Signed off, Bra.