Cross My Heart

I had a sudden growth spurt in sixth grade.  For the first time in my life, for the briefest moment, I was no longer the shortest kid in my class.  Sadly, I have never grown any taller, stalling at just under five feet.  But I did continue to grow in other ways, necessitating a trip a few years later to buy some new bras at the William A. Allen Company, downtown Leominster’s terrific and greatly missed department store.  This is how an innocent shopping trip ended in four years at an all-girls Catholic boarding school.

The nice lady in Allen’s lingerie department measured me and brought me some appropriate selections to try on.  One style was just right, but she only had one in white in my size.  She did have another in black, and she pointed out that a black bra is useful to wear under dark sweaters.  That made sense to me, so home I went with two bras in my Allen’s bag.

The trouble started after I wore the black bra and dropped it into the hamper, where it was discovered by my older sister.  That night, I was called to a conference in the kitchen with my parents and sister.  The offending piece of lingerie was held up by my mother like a rotting fish. 

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked. 

“It’s a bra,” I replied, confused.  I looked toward my father, hoping for relief, but his eyes were averted by intense embarrassment.

“It’s a black bra,” said my sister, accusingly.

Now, I was no angel, but the significance of owning a black bra had never occurred to me.  They didn't buy the story about the lady at Allen's  No amount of stammering and denial helped; they were convinced that I was turning into a loose woman, even if I wasn’t one already.

A few months later, on a Saturday morning, my mother and sister informed me that we were driving to Nashua, New Hampshire, to visit a boarding school.  I had mixed feelings about the place.  On the down side, it was a boarding school, they wore really ugly uniforms, and the teachers were the nuns I thought I had left behind.  But there was one positive thing:  it wasn’t home, and home was getting a little weird.

A few weeks later, I became a freshman at Mt. St. Mary Seminary College Preparatory School for Girls.  All because of a bra.  Cross my heart.