The Humor and Life, in Particular Web site
author:  Margie Culbertson

June/July 2005 Humor Writing Contest winner
Best Short Humor!

Getting It Off My Chest


Sylvia Bright–Green

I recently had to write my first consumer complaint letter to a company about a subject very close to my bra.

Let me explain. Or better yet, here's the letter that I wrote to My Cup Runneth Over Bra Company about my problem.

To Whom It May Concern: 

I'm writing to your company in regards to the defective bras I purchased from a local department store. The following day after the purchase, while wearing one of the bras, I immediately experienced a "creaking" noise. A noise very similar to an over–crowded arm joint.

In fact, every time I moved my arms or shoulders the bras "creaked". Deciding that maybe the stiffening used in the bra straps needed fabric softener, I washed the bras per your package instructions.

Unfortunately, the "creaking" didn't stop. So I once again washed the bras using an undiluted fabric softener solution. They still continued to "creak", and quite loudly, I might add, especially during one of my close encounters of the man–made kind.

They creaked so loud, in fact, that when I reached over my salad to pick up my coffee cup, at a luncheon, the "creaking" from my bra startled the lady in the chair next to me. She jerked her arm with the fork in it, hitting me in the shoulder. Out of reflex, while holding my coffee cup, I threw the brew on the lady across the table, who then dumped her salad into her lap and on the floor. The waitress walking past slipped on some of the salad and the food from her serving tray flipped into the air, landing on some people sitting at the next table. One of the ladies at that table was so startled that she jumped up, caught her foot in her purse strap laying on the floor, tripped, and sprawled across the table exposing her derriere with her thonged underwear.

Naturally, I lowered my head, pretending I was searching for something in my purse, even though all eyes were upon me, the Culprit. When the flow of conversation resumed, I excused myself and nonchalantly strolled to the ladies room to remove my bra so I would not create anymore disasters.

I figured at this point, what would be more disruptive or more noticeable, my ample bosom adding more weight to my waist, or the creaking of my bra?

As I exited the dining area, relieved that I had escaped with my pride intact. I was jostled by an extremely attractive man. He accidentally bumped into my shoulder, throwing my arm into a backward motion. At that moment my bra let out a loud "CREAK". That special man, who I have been looking for all my life, my true soul mate, apologetically says, "Oh, gosh madam, I'm sorry. Did I break something? Are you all right? Do you need any assistance? Can I take you somewhere?"

With visions of the motel around the corner, I decided to fake a faint and drop into his arms. But before I had a chance, the waitress came up and said," Sir, stay away from this one — she's a disaster in the making."

I was so embarrassed, I managed to mutter a "thank you" and hastened into the ladies room where I smacked the inward swinging door into a woman exiting, breaking her nose.

Therefore, I wish to inform you that due to your defective bras I have been excommunicated from ever dining in my local restaurant. I also narrowly escaped, by a nose, of being sued, as the accident gave the woman the excuse she needed to get a nose job. These incidents don't even begin to cover the humiliation I endured because of these bras emitting a noise similar to badly arthritic body joints.

I know this malady will come soon enough as my body continues to mature, but I don't need a bra telling everyone, "Hey! listen up, this is the woman who claims to be thirty–five...the second time around."

I especially do not need a bra telling others she's past her "sexperation date." When actually I am at my peak and very noticeable to the opposite gender in an affronting sort of way. Do you get my meaning?

Due to this disturbing dining incident I felt I deserved some sort of compensation. So I phoned the local department store where I purchased these bras. The woman in the lingerie department told me only the purchase price could be refunded. She said I needed to contact the company making the bras. I guess that means you. Yet what I don't understand is why you changed an already excellent product? I should know, I've been wearing this bra style for years; and I loved it.

Furthermore I can't find any other bras to replace these that have the same great support. So in desperation I removed the straps from the new bras and replaced them with the straps from the old bras. But the strain on my straps from my over–endowdness created too much stress, and they popped.

So as is apparent, I now have a much more serious problem than I had before. To make matters worse, the stress from this whole situation has me bound — house–wise. Therefore, I'm pleading with you to help me as soon as possible.

Enclosed, you will find one of those culprits that popped and have put my life on "hold".

I look forward to hearing from you...SOON.

Barely yours.

Sylvia Bright–Green

©Sylvia Bright–Green

Sylvia Bright–Green has published over 800 articles, columns, features and stories for over 26 years. I have been published in five books, and have taught writing at colleges, hosted a talk show, written two books, and working on her third, so far. She is also an intuitive/counselor/medium. When she is not doing writing or counseling, she can be found at lunch with family or friends, watching television movies or reading a nonfiction book for self–growth. Sylvia works from home and loves it because she can wear a robe all day. Her goals are to get her books published and to become the best spiritual person that an angel can be. Her philosophy is:  Life at seventy should NOT be a journey to the grave. It should be skidding in sideways, chocolate in one hand, a Baileys Irish Cream in the other, yelling, "Holy Shit! What a ride."

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