Mrs Bennet’s Bust Fairy

Tuesday, January 20 09

The Tooth Fairy had a collection of milk teeth she kept hidden, but now and then she looked at the tiny molars and marvelled how they had once been part of a tiny mouth as well as debating how much money it had cost her. Mrs Bennet respected the Tooth Fairy. At least she remembered to visit – unlike the Bust Fairy. Mrs Bennet yanked at her broken top drawer and looked at her miserable array of bras with front, back and shoulder fasteners, of varying cup sizes and various shades of grey. None of them fitted now, apart from one and it provoked too many humiliating memories, Mrs Bennet refused to wear it. It represented her first and last bra fitting experience.
“I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs Bennet, but you are only a 32 double A,” declared the matronly bra-fitter - who obviously took great delight in making young(ish) women feel good about themselves – loud enough for all vulnerable top-less ladies in adjoining cubicles, dreading their own fate, to hear.
Mrs Bennet didn’t know quite what to say. So what if she had moles rather than mountains? And why tell her in a tone she heard at school when a pupil hadn’t made the expected grade? To ensure Mrs Bennet felt really good, the army major bra-fitter, pointed her in the direction of the teenage bra rails, where the only bra in her size was a starter bra.
It should have been the finishing bra, because it finished her off. Never again would she let a bra fitter near her. She’d rather wear chicken fillets.
Two twin babies later, her bust had grown impressively to the largest it had ever been, but the babies had eaten them all up. Her cleavage now gone to Cleavage Heaven, she could however run again without the risk of black eyes.
So when a dear image consultant friend informed Mrs Bennet and her chums that a bra fitter would be coming along from a rather posh lingerie line, Mrs Bennet made her feelings felt.
“I won’t be coming. I do not like bra fitters, who consider I don’t have a bust to fit,” she informed her friend.
And that was that. Her companion to her left, whose bust and wit she wished she could buy at her favourite supermarket, joked:
“Didn’t the bust fairy come to your house then?”
“She did for a while, but obviously decided to take her precious commodities back!” moaned Mrs Bennet. “But I’ll give her one more chance!”
That night she shoved her pathetic bra collection under her pillow in hope. The next morning, the bras were gone, but a note was in its place.
“There are not enough busts to go round. I have five more sets to make for this household. That is more than enough for one Bust Fairy!”