“This is the sort of T shirt I mean.” she said, holding up one of her T shirts. Like most women’s T shirts, it has a slight hourglass shape and short capped sleeves… but when she turns it, I’m surprised to see a print of the distinctive solidarity banner in washed out red.

 

 

 

 

“Cool.” I said, being a bit of a liberal with left wing leanings.

 

 

 

 

“Try it for size.” she said, scrunching it and tossing it to me.

 

 

 

 

I snatched the T shirt out of the air and let it hang. “It looks a bit small.” I said as I held it to my chest. It wasn’t that small because Aunt Katinka isn’t that small. In fact she’s about my size… it’s just smaller than the square T shirts I’m used to.

 

 

 

 

“Nonsense… it’s just fitted that’s all.” My aunt smiled. “Go on.” she said with an encouraging grin.

 

 

 

 

To refuse would have been rude so I stripped down to my bra and pulled on the white skinny fit T shirt. It could have been worse… Bambi or a kitten maybe… but Solidarnoṡċ in its defiant scrawl was OK. The little capped sleeves do have that raised pin tucked thing going on, and it fits me snugly without stretching. “I never had you down as a socialist.” I said to my Aunt.

 

 

 

 

“Why ever not?” she replied. “In the old country, Lech Wałęsa was a great hero when I was young.” She told me about the rocky transition from communism to democracy and how she hoped for a government run by the trade unions, or at least one that worked with them. It was a bit of an eye opener to say the least as I’d only seen my aunt as a strong mother type, a determined housekeeper and a formidable foe if you get on the wrong side of her. I’d never considered that my Aunt Katinka had political leanings, especially ones that leant so strongly to the left. With the strict petticoating regime I’ve always been subjected to, I’d have guessed she’d be right wing if anything… right wing verging on fascist.

 

 

 

 

A little later, I had a sly look at myself in the hallway mirror. Looking at my back, I could plainly see the shape of my bra’s back fastening and the two lumps where the straps could be adjusted… but other than that, I quite liked wearing my Aunt’s T shirt. Yes it’s feminine in cut, but it’s not girlie or prissy, and the political slogan works in its favour. I did wonder however… where does a strict petticoating regime fit in with left wing political ideals?

 

 

 

 

“You can keep it if you want.” my aunt said, catching me looking at myself.

 

 

 

 

“Oh no I couldn’t.” I insisted. “I know it’s a favourite.”

 

 

 

 

“It is, but I only wear it for bed… I don’t wear my ideals on my sleeve like I used to.” she replied. “Plus, it looks better on you.” she added.

 

 

 

 

The gift was graciously received. Although I can’t see myself wearing it casually whilst out and about… the pin-tucked sleeves are a bit of a give away.

 

 

 

 

At work the following day there was a new phrase going around the office, and that phrase was ‘flat-bra’. Although the two words weren’t said directly to me, they were often said in the vicinity of me and was often followed glances and sniggers cast in my direction. I guess my line manager has spoken to his mother since I’d visited her lingerie shop, and it’s more than likely that he’s spoken to at least some members of staff. I didn’t really see much of anyone that day as I was stuck at my desk transferring data from one spreadsheet to another. Hardly anyone spoke to me in the lunch room, apart from one of the girls who noticed my fingernails. Unlike my toes, they hadn’t been painted in a glossy pink varnish, but had been manicured and polished. “Do you ever wear make-up too?” she quizzed as I bit into my sandwich.