Treasure Chested

by Janice Airhart

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Photo by Malta Gordos on Unsplash

Several years ago, a colleague and I were setting up a display table for a student event at the community college where we both worked. As I was adjusting the banner featuring the college’s biotechnology program, Mona retrieved her cell phone from her bra.

Is there room in there for a cell phone? Mona’s blouse was modest, but it was low enough to reach a hand in. Her movements drew no one’s attention but mine. Cell phones were smaller then, but still.

Mona had recently been promoted to a new department, vacating a grant-funded position promoting science programs, and I was her successor. My new boss extolled Mona’s accomplishments to the point I felt inadequate. I gladly accepted her kind offer to help me run my first exhibit table.

Now this phone-in-the-bra thing. I couldn’t imagine how I’d slip a hand in and out of my blouse without pulling off a button or rummaging through my bra while my phone blared “The Star-Spangled Banner” at ear-popping volume. Every eye would be on me—appearing to fondle my bosom.

I’ve always been small-chested. At twelve, my friend Janet and I secretly pooled our money to buy a bra from the neighborhood dime store and arranged to take turns wearing it. The first time I put on the stiffly padded size 32A, I didn’t bother examining my profile in the small mirror in our family’s only bathroom. I suspect the cups stood out like traffic cones under my shirt. My father noticed immediately. He pulled me aside, heard my explanation, and advised me to give the bra to Janet. “You’re not ready for a bra,” he said. For years, even after Dad conceded I should add that undergarment to my wardrobe, I hoped I was merely a late bloomer. I wasn’t.

Sixty years later, I realize the benefits of being small-chested and feel compassion for my generously endowed sisters. These days, I often search for a place to keep my device nearby and instinctively recall Mona’s bra vault. If I’d known earlier about this creative method of storage, I’d have made better use of underfilled bra cups. There would’ve been room for teenage accoutrements, such as:

• A quarter for an emergency phone call. It would’ve been easier to reach in my bra than in my shoe.

• Tissues for the occasional smudge or nose-blowing. Grandma stashed a hankie in her cleavage, but ugh!

• Bobby socks for filling the unused space. (Not a good look.)

• Lipstick (bold Sassy Cherry) or lip gloss (demure Pink Primrose).

• Scrawled notes associated with the Battle of Gettysburg. (Don’t ask.)

Last year, I discovered unexpectedly that Mona and I experienced similar family traumas. Lipsticks and bobby socks aren’t important to either of us today. What we now share has led to a unique kinship. I now consider her a friend . . . a bosom buddy.

In recent years, I’ve also discovered advantages to keeping some things close to the chest, where they’re safely guarded, where they won’t throw me off-balance. Things I won’t risk losing or forgetting. My teenage bra would’ve accommodated a few childish accessories, but the authentic treasures of my life will fit anywhere, even in the sliver of bra-space over my heart. They include:

• Healing words, like “I love you” and “I’m right here.”

• First glimpses of children and grandchildren. That “girls trip” to Kentucky with my beloved stepmom and sisters. Hiking the Grand Canyon’s South Rim with my husband.

• Creative ideas. Alas, they evaporate without warning.

• A giggling child. A butterfly flitting among the zinnias.

• Wisdom. Not the unearned consequence of advancing age but life experiences, carefully examined.

These and other keepsakes fill my heart today more surely than my padded “lift and separate” B cups can. Each serves its own purpose well. My hard-earned lessons are more uplifting than a push-up underwire, and for middle-age trifles, I’ve got pockets and tote bags.

A former medical technologist, freelance writer and editor, high school science teacher and English adjunct professor, Janice Airhart's memoir, Mother of My Invention, was published in 2022. Her essays have been published in SCNs Real Women Write, Concho River Review, The Sun, The Science Teacher, and more. Her second memoir, What Teaching Teen Moms Taught Me, about teaching science to teen moms will be released by Lived Places Publishing in 2025. Also visit her Substack at https://substack.com/@janiceairhart.