At age 10, there was nothing I wanted more than to wear a bra. Some girls in my grade had already started wearing training bras, and I yearned desperately to be part of that club. I vividly remember the day that my mother gave me my first trainer. I was filled with such joy that I gave a huge smile that stretched from ear to ear. That very “sexy” (to my then 10-year-old eyes) trainer bra, black with a little bit of lace trimming, was all mine. I was becoming a real bra-wearing woman.
As the years rolled by, my excitement for bra wearing evolved into boredom, which grew into mild annoyance, which finally ballooned into full-on dislike. Underwire, hooks, straps… all of it became too cumbersome, so much so that a couple months back I unwittingly started weaning myself off of bras. Now, I know some people are probably rolling their eyes at this point and thinking to themselves, “Here’s another hippie chick thinking she’s too good for basic societal norms like bra wearing,” but let me assure you that I have no deep seeded desire to be countercultural for the sake of being countercultural. My motivation for going braless is far less political or interesting than that: I just want to be more comfortable.
At first, I started off not wearing a bra at home after work, but that quickly extended to braless weekends (yes, even in public). The only place I was yet to venture braless was to work. I won’t lie; I did have some initial worries about going into work sans bra. I ke
pt imagining that I would be summoned to HR, scolded for letting my bosom run amuck, and sent home with a stern warning. HR would later issue a company-wide email reminding all female staff that all breasts must remain appropriately contained during work hours. None of that happened, in fact, not a single person even eyed my chest suspiciously. I relished in my new found freedom for the whole week...
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