For most women, hearing this would be a God sent. Immediately they would begin imagining setting fire to their bras and doing a ritualistic dance around as they watched them burn. Think of the comfort. The sheer satisfaction of just letting it all hang out.
But the thing is … I’m not a normal woman. I love wearing bras. Don’t ask me why, but I just do. It’s not because they are pretty and feminine … in fact I hate purchasing bras, they are stupidly expensive. I believe it’s simply because they keep me secure. To the point where I don’t even need to think about the fact that I have taas that need to be supported. They just are.
I’m not that girl who gets home and pulls her bra through the arm hole of her shirt first thing. I take my bra off to shower, and that’s about it. I sleep with it. I work out with it (because I TOTALLY work out :::shifty eyes:::), I party with it. It’s like my best friend that I never have to think about.
But being a woman sucks sometimes. Especially when you start getting a random burning pain in your right taa. Because when that happens you immediately think the worst and that you’re going to die. Which is exactly what happened to me last week.
I Googled my symptoms like an idiot, which confirmed my fears I was dying, which then led me to a very uncomfortable breast exam from my Gynecologist (except my gyno wasn’t available, but I was so desperate so I was willing to go to anyone).
Let me tell you, it doesn’t get much worse then having a complete stranger who doesn’t know you feel you up and squeeze your nipples. It just doesn’t.
Turns out I wasn’t dying, though. Whew. I know … you were all probably really concerned. No for real it was a huge relief. Never Google any symptoms EVER. WebMD should be burned at the stake.
What happened was I apparently strained something in that area around my rib cage. Because you know, I work out SO much (see the shifty eyes comment above). So the only other option was I did something weird in my sleep. Sounds MUCH more realistic because I adore my bed AND sleeping. And because of that I have this random torturous pain in my right taa region that I just have to let “heal.” Cool. Did I mention being a woman is the worst?
It wasn’t until I went to my chiropractor for a tune up that I realized this stupid burning pain in my taa, which I was 100% sure was cancer once upon a time (I’m so very thankful it wasn’t … you have no idea), was because my back was so effed up. Who knew.
And because the area around my right taa region was so inflamed, the underwire on my bra wasn’t helping the situation, making the inflammation worse. So when my chiropractor asked me if I could refrain from wearing underwire, what I really wanted to say was, “bitch do you KNOW what I would look like sans a bra?! NO ONE wants to see that.” But instead I just said, “sure? Ehhh?!”
“You know … wear a bralette or a sports bra,” my chiropractor suggested. Umm okay … you have to be a tween or an A-cup to pull off a bralette. I have what my friends call, “secret bombs.” Huge taas, but you would never know because I never dress like a skank (man, I’m really opening up to you guys today). So a bralette would probably cover my nipple, and that just doesn’t do the body good.
My next option was a sports bra. And that is where I am at today. Rocking a sports bra at places other than the gym so my inflammation heals. I feel squished and smooshed. I feel like I have a uni-boob to be honest with you. The only thing that would make this situation better is if I could rip off my shirt and start singing Sporty Spices’ part in Wannabe … high kicks, flat abs and all. But alas that will never happen as I’m currently not in “Spice Girls shape” (you’re welcome in advance).
Now, for the first time in my life, I can’t wait to get home, rip my sports bra off and free ball it. Who knows? Maybe it will stick.
But a little tiny part of me misses my underwire. Because all I keep saying to myself is, “you’re wearing a sports bra, you’re wearing a sports bra, you’re wearing a sports bra.”
Now heal, body, HEAL.