Peekaboo

Laundry procrastination found mom in a familiar dilemma as she dressed for work one morning. Already late, mom opened her undergarment drawer to discover that all her brassieres were in the wash, lost somewhere in the dirty laundry pile in the corner that was beginning to resemble Nanga Parbat.

Mom was faced with two choices … um, make that three ….

1. Fish out used bras from dirty hamper and pick one that passes the sniff test.
2. Choose tank top with built-in bra. Wear jacket, despite 90 degree weather, to make ensemble look chic and professional.
3. Use special occasion bra stuffed in corner of drawer.

Now, normally, one would expect special occasion underwear to be a lacy, wispy, barely-there number. Lingerie so expensive that you bring it out only on certain occasions, like when you wear that dress with a plunging neckline for a party, and artfully lean over, so that your friend’s bad-boy husband, the one whose smile gives you goose bumps, can get a good look at what he cannot have.

In mom’s case, however, the special occasion bra is one reserved strictly for emergencies - a bra so past its prime that it has lost its elasticity and rides up to the nape of her neck; a bra that has been through the wringer so many times that the little rose bud in front has fallen off and the second hook in the back is missing; a bra that even grandma, who never throws out anything, would have discarded without a moment’s hesitation.

For reasons best known to herself, mom picked no. 3 and rushed out the door.

Later that day, at the pediatrician’s office, mom was idly flipping through a magazine while Kuki amused herself by jumping on and off mom’s lap, prating and smiling shyly at a portly, bespectacled Telugu gentleman waiting with his son.

Suddenly, without warning, Kuki pulled mom’s blouse down to her nether region and loudly asked, “You wearing a braaaaaaaaaa, Amma?”

Time stood still - newborns stopped crying, the nurse’s jaw dropped, children stopped fidgeting, the Telugu gentleman forgot to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” mom wanted to say to them, as she struggled to gather whatever little dignity she had left. “I didn't have much of a choice."