Funny how some things trigger long ago memories.
I noticed a college girl running up the street the other day. College girls, and guys, do that a lot, but this one stood out because her bosom was bouncing so hard it made me cross my arms in front of me and cringe with pain. I thought, get a good support bra, dear, before you bruise your knees.
That brought to mind the pencil test. Remember the pencil test? Back in the day, my day anyway, it was a test that determined whether or not you could safely go braless. Slip a pencil underneath your breast. If it fell to the floor you could; if it stayed put, you and Maidenform forged an alliance.
That in turn made me remember the last time I heard about the pencil test. I was new to a job, recently moved to a new area, and walked into a dispute between a few county commisioners and my boss, which for reasons I don't need to go into made it necessary for me to tape record county commission meetings in addition to my note-taking.
On a slow morning, the commission had little business to do, but was waiting for an appointment to show up when they decided to use the time to open the mail. One commissioner found a flyer advertising a seminar regarding a feminist topic and shot it over to the county attorney, a rather buxom woman, who said something about needing to attend that particular seminar. From the commissioner: "Ah Sarah (not her real name) go burn your bra."
From Sara: "James (not his real name) I've told you before. It's bad enough when you fail the pencil test, but when your hairbrush stays up here (pause) omigod, I'm on tape!"
Two things became apparent that day.
One, barriers between people come down when you share a good, long belly laugh.
The other: my hairbrush didn't budge either.
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