WARNING: Some of you read my posts at work. This post contains drawings of boobs. Now then…
I’m fascinated with boobs. Not in a sexual way, but in a “If I had the chance to see everybody’s boobs, I’d want to” way. But only if it was anonymous; if a girl actually offered to show me her boobs, which has happened before after said girl had a boob job, I’d chicken out, as I did in the boob job situation. She was like, “I’ll show you later in the bathroom,” and I was like, “Okay!” Then I wandered off and hung out by the appetizer table.
But I’m still so curious. What do other boobs look like? I never played sports, so locker rooms are places I’ve mostly seen on television. And while I know I could see lots of boobs – TONS of boobs! – at the click of a button, I fear porn would rot my brain. A few years ago Glamour Magazine ran an article on the whole mystery behind breasts. At the bottom of the page they posted a small photo with a Brady Bunch style grid showcasing all these different real life boobs. No faces, no bellybuttons, just boobs.
I was mesmerized. “Look at those!” I said, talking to nobody in particular and pointing to a pair with large brown nipples hanging heavy down a woman’s torso. “And those!” about a pair of teeny weeny breasts looking like they were gingerly placed right atop the woman’s chest just in time for the photo shoot.
I think the reason I’m so infatuated is because the media has given us ONE image of what breasts should look like, and with that, I’ve spent too many years trying to achieve that same look with crazy padded bras and wires that push my girls up into my larynx. But it’s getting worse, y’all. The bra stores have LOST THEIR MINDS.
Add two cup sizes with this bra and you’ll look like this chick on the beach – look at her! Not a stretch mark in sight!
Now, adding THREE cup sizes, because we know what men want – and it sure ain’t your A cups!
ADDS SEVEN CUP SIZES! Smother your lover in BREASTS BREASTS BREASTS! Well, actually lots of cotton padding. Better keep that bra on during hanky panky, sister!
I swear it’s like they’re in cahoots with the razor companies about how many cups and blades they can add to a relatively simple object.
Ladies and gentlemen, I HAVE REVOLTED!
It started in the fourth grade when my mom purchased me my first training bra. It basically looked like what would be left if you cut the bottom half of a tank top off and hot glued a small bow over what would have been the right breast had the wearer actually possessed breasts.
Between then and now I’ve experimented with various forms of lady garb, and for the past 15 years, most of that garb has consisted of very padded, very heightening apparatuses. I purchased them from stores where the associates wear all black and constantly offer to give you a “true fitting.”
But several months ago, I was putting on a shirt. I wear an extra small in just about everything, so as I was buttoning the shirt, it surprised me when the buttons across the chest were difficult to close. And then I realized it was because this shirt was made for the normal me. The me who can wear an extra small shirt and properly fasten the buttons and not have to worry about the top busting open. I grabbed a sports bra instead, and all of a sudden the shirt fit perfectly. I felt so free. I felt so ME.
Now, if you wondering, no, I have not switched to wearing all sports bras. Sports bras are designed to compress and suffocate and make you question if it’s even worth it to live if you have to wear one. And getting them off? That’s a pulled shoulder waiting to happen, people.
But bralettes . . . Now THAT’S what I’m talking about. They’re dainty. They’re honest. They don’t attempt to make me look like a porn star. They just make me look like me.
Here’s the ones I’m loving (and no, I don’t get paid if you click on this, but I wish I did so you could just send me a dollar if you want):
And here’s the thing. I actually feel a lot more attractive now in my clothes without having these two artificial cotton wads the size of baseballs affixed to my chest. I just feel like me! And if I weren’t so afraid of sounding like a meme, I’d add, “And I’m okay with me.” Then I’d stick that saying on a picture of a model splayed across a yoga mat with long blond hair. Then it’d go NUTS on Facebook, except for everybody would be all, “Yeah, I’d be okay with me too if I looked like that chick.” But like I was saying, I really am okay just looking like my normal self.
Some of you might have some questions about my new liberating wardrobe.
Do you think padded bras are the devil?
No, but I bet if people wear bras in hell they’ll be padded and wired because those are the two most uncomfortable things to add to a bra besides razor wire.
Do you think people who wear padded bras are the devil?
No, but you’re probably less spiritual than me. Kidding! I care very little about what types of bras you all wear. Plus, I still do lots of stuff to myself that’s totally fake. Like, I wear makeup, and not just a little makeup. I, like, wing out my eyeliner until it touches my hairline. And on fancy nights I wear fake eyelashes. And I had braces. And I suck in my stomach at the beach for the ENTIRE vacation.
What about the headlights?
Now that’s a good question and I have such a good answer for you. I have a handful of sports bras that came with removable padding. Normal padding, not like three-and-a-half inch thick padding. So when I’m wearing a shirt that could draw attention to the headlights, I slip those sports bra pads into my bralette and – BINGO BANGO! – problem solved. (PS – Benson invented that term “bingo bango” while on vacation earlier this year and I’m trying to help him spread it. Or actually now that I think about it, he wanted it to be like his thing that he says, so he said it for the entire vacation. So don’t go repeating it.) PLUS, they have ones with built-in light padding, so there you go.
Do you think everybody should wear these little “bralette” things you’re raving about?
Oh my gosh, NO. Some of you girls have BOOBS. Like, REALLY big boobs, and some little bralette thing ain’t gonna cut it for you. I’m surprised you’re even still reading. You just do what you need to do, sister. I have no experience here, but my general understanding is that you need support and such. Please direct yourself to a blog written by a bustier gal for help in this arena.
Got any pictures of your own knockerss you’d like to share below?
Kidding! Happy Tuesday, folks.