by Christie L. Smith
Normally I don’t spend much time thinking about my “girls,” but a recent episode of bra shopping gave me plenty to ponder. They’re supposed to be a source of nourishment for our young, but no body part seems to be more worshipped or reviled, depending on your point of view or gender.
We enlarge them, we reduce them, we smash them together to enhance cleavage, we make them into “mono-boobs” to participate in sports, and we trap them into that device from hell, the bra.
I ask you, what bra is ever comfortable? None I’ve ever found. They ride up the back, the straps slip down the shoulder, and the underwire digs even when the packaging info claims a smooth fit.
And why, oh, why, when I psych myself up to go through the semi-annual ritual of buying a bra, does my size always change?
Get the cup right, and the band size is wrong. Get the band right, and the cup is crinkly. Tighten the strap too much and the band sits too high. Leave the strap too loose, and support is definitely lacking. Sigh. An hour, that’s right, an hour of time that I’ll never get back, is what it took to find a bra I can live with.
Is it comfortable? Not on your life. Does it fit? Well, that depends. Which boob are you talking about? Because nursing (the actual purpose, remember) left one of them slightly bigger than the other.
Supposedly all women have that problem. I wouldn’t know. My “tatas” were enormous – so much so, that at age 24 I had breast reduction surgery and lost 3-1/2 pounds of fat. Imagine it. That’s more than the weight of Paris Hilton’s teacup poodle. No wonder it seemed like men had a hard time staying focused on my face.
So, my boobs were finally perky, and the exact same size. It was great! I could look down and see my feet. It was even worth the scars.
Then…nursing. Bigger again – though not quite so big this time. And, as I already mentioned, no longer the same size.
I’ve now entered my 40’s and the “girls” are losing a little elasticity and looking slightly droopy. God forbid that be acceptable – you know, a normal part of aging. No. The proper entrapment device must be found to lift them back up to where they belong.
Who started this anyway? Has any woman anywhere ever been allowed to be happy about her boobs, no matter the size or perkiness?
I know the bra burning in the 60’s was about a lot more than bras, but I think those women were onto something. If we were all willing to just let our boobs be how they are, and not worry about how we could change them, we could get on with what’s really important – things like global warming and universal healthcare.
Think about it, ladies...free your boobs, change the world. Go ahead, take a step toward freedom and spring the booby trap.
Christie Smith resides outside of Austin, Texas in Kyle, but likes to pretend it’s still really Austin. A member of the Austin Writergrrls, she recently left gainful employment to concentrate on writing full-time.