Apparently I missed a very exciting celebration yesterday and you likely did too: no bra day. The thought alone conjures up all sorts of images—was this a grand feminist statement rivaling the 1960s, did some college co-eds come up with this an excuse to walk around like playboy models, and most importantly who was walking around with no bra on when they know they needed one—but the day actually had a more somber meaning. The idea was crafted last year by a 19-year-old girl from California who goes by the online name of Anastasia Doughnuts as a statement to raise breast cancer awareness and stand in solidarity with women who no longer have to wear bras because of breast disease. While the cause was noble, as women thought about the reality of what not needing to wear a bra would mean, most of those who still have to wear one couldn’t help but think about one thing: how much they hate these things.
In an article on The Huffington Post, Ann Brenoff wrote about spending her entire 20s without a bra. At one point she writes about the discomfort of having to wear one particularly if you actually have breasts, at which point she remarks, “You size A cups may feel free to leave the post now, since you likely won’t have a clue what I’m talking about.” I actually felt the same for her from the time I looked at her headline on down because I will never know what it’s like to spend my 20s without a bra. I didn’t even spend my teens or pre-teen years without one and since breasts aren’t one of those things that get better, higher, or smaller with time (unless a plastic surgery has his hands in things) I likely will never know what it is like to roll around free of being hooked into some sort of mammary contraption. Shout out to the inventor behind clear straps.
What’s funny though is the well-endowed are hardly the only ones whose favorite past time is the moment they step foot in their house and can break free of their brassiere. Just recently I was staying with a friend for the night and as we were walking back to her place she was complaining about her strapless bra irritating her. She referenced her boyfriend who she lives with and says he knows whenever she come home it’s T.O.T.— titties out time— but added since they were having company (me) she would keep them contained. I cracked up thinking if she and her maybe B cups only knew what it was like to buy a bra with so many letters for the size it looks like credentials behind one’s name. But that moment showed me that if women have nothing else is common, we all hate having to strap on a bra to look presentable during the day, and we all relish the sweet moment when we can pop that baby off and breathe, as my mother would say. Tweets from yesterday’s event prove it as well as one woman talked about not even being able to wait until she got home to free herself. She prefers to release herself from the bondage of microfiber, straps, hooks, and underwires on the car ride home. That must be an interesting site for those around her, although I’m sure she’s got that single-handed unhook, slide down the shoulder move down to a discreet science by now.
It truly is a shame to have to spend so much money on something we don’t want to wear to begin with. And though we’ll break the bank on trying to lift, minimize, shape, and stuff our girls into a bra that’s not only practical but also pleasing to the eye, if we had our choice of it being socially acceptable and gravitationally appeasing to walk around without one, I think we’d all rival the bra burnings of years past. But until Playtex actually finds a way to make good on that 18-hour claim (do they still do that?) or someone at least helps us get through an 8-hour work day without cursing out Vicky for not realizing how much we actually hate bras is no secret, we’ll continue to relish days like no bra day for its double meaning and much appreciate feeling of buxom freedom.
Do you usually take your bra off as soon as you hit the door or are you one of the women who can go without one altogether?
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