Life In A Sports Bra


Screen Shot 2016-02-16 at 4.14.53 PM“You should probably think about wearing a bra without underwire for a little bit,”
my chiropractor said to me after my exam. 

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. 

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28 Going On 13

Bra-fittingWhen you go bra shopping with your mom, no matter what age, it’s like you’re suddenly transported back to that awkward time in life when you first became a “woman.” Ugh. I, fortunately, don’t have an awkward “first bra shopping experience” story, though. My mom just suddenly starting putting sports bras in my stocking on Christmas morning and in my room randomly, and I would turn purple and pretend they didn’t exist. Totally normal.

Luckily my need for new bras and to be fitted again aligned perfectly with the Nordstrom Anniversary sale, because I HATE how expensive good bras are. It isn’t fair and I’ll never understand it. Hence why I wear them out to the point of my underwire stabbing me on my side. 

As a 28-year-old broad, I know what I likes in a bra. Black or nude, lacy, no padding … boom, I’m supported. But when it comes to getting fitted and having a stranger get all up in yo bid-ness … well I’m immediately transported back to being and awkward teenager. I stand there topless, fidgeting, crossing my arms over my taas, then changing it up and just putting my hands over my taas to not feel so exposed.

Bra Fitter: So have you ever been fitted before? 

I don’t know if this lady thought I was younger than I was because I was there with my mother, or if she thought I was an incompetent idiot, but I’m 28. If I hadn’t been fitted before, I would have had a serious issue in life. 

And then there was my mom …

Mom: Kate are you in here?

Me: Yes. (I was topless and getting felt up by a stranger)

Bra Fitter: We are over here, Mom! 

Mom: Can I come in? :::opens door::

Me: :::Still topless, getting felt up by a stranger, and now turning purple:::

Mom: Can I leave my purse in here with you? It’s heavy. 

Me: Mom … yes, BYE.

After my size was determined (no I won’t share that info with you, ya pervs), the bra fitter went out in search of bras I would like. She returned with a plethora of … well … ugly. Leopard print, sparkle … and color. I felt my 28-year-old self returning. 

Me: I’m going to be up front with you … I only really wear black and nude bras.

Bra Fitter: Well that’s boring.

Me (in my head): Uhhhhh…

Mom: How’s it going in here?!?

Me: All good, Mom. :::Sigh::: All good.

Okay, what is boring about black and nude lingerie? If I’m buying an $80 bra, I want to be able to wear that shit with ev-er-y-thing. Not some cheetah print nightmare with a blue lace border that I could only whip out for nights out at “da club” which ps. NEVER happen anymore. 

For the love of Jesus, I’ve been around the block with bras. I’ve been fitted by the best of the best. Literally, and I’m bragging here on purpose, I’ve had a woman who people refer to as the “bra whisperer” feel me up. It was glorious. I just needed to know my damn bra size since it had been about a year since my last fitting and then I could figure it out from there. Feel me up, give me a number, and I’ll take care of the rest. 

I wish getting fitted for bras was less awkward, I really do. And I wish bra fitters when they sense the topless woman in front of them is uncomfortable would stop highlighting the face. “Relax, hun, it will be over soon.” I’m not at the gyno getting a pap-smear, you are just wrapping a tape measure around my body. I’m uncomfortable because I’m topless and I don’t know you and my mother is standing on the other side of the dressing room door like I’m trying on prom dresses. 

Sigh … some things never change. If you ever, for some strange and bazaar reason, want to re-live your teenage years … go bra shopping with your mother or other woman-figure in your life. It makes for some funny and awkward situations, I’ll tell you that much. 

Ahhh memories … 

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The First Time I Let The Ladies Out

Screen Shot 2015-06-22 at 4.45.10 PMI’m a freak among women when it comes to bra wearing. While some may count down the hours of the day they can bust open their front door, unclasp their bra and pull it through their shirt arm hole (it’s a talent). Me? Well … I sleep in the thing. I don’t even let myself air dry after the shower. It is dry off, and bra on. 

I wear it when I’m sick. I wear it when I’m just laying around the house. I’m basically 100% bra-ed up. Because without it, I feel strange. Like REALLY strange. Which is interesting because I remember thinking the minute I put one on for the first time, “this is so weird, Mom how long do I have to wear this thing?!” 

I’ve even avoided backless dresses/shirts (which are my favorite … I adore my back) for this reason because “free-ballin'” was never an option for me, as, well … God gave me parts that need some :::cough::: support (that’s a nice way of saying I have big taas). Yes, I tried the backless bra, but you know that feeling of falling when you aren’t really falling? It’s basically the same thing, except you’re constantly thinking your bra is going to come flying off since it is hanging on to your skin by tape. Which is unnatural. 

I can’t say I’ve ever gone out in public bra-less until recently. And guess what made me do it? Shocking … a strapless bra. I won’t name brand names as this specific brand was nice enough to send me a free trial of their bra … but I’ll honestly say the thing is made from the fabric of Satan. If I wasn’t throwing a party at my home that day, and if I hadn’t bought a halter maxi dress that required me to wear a strapless bra, I probably would have burned it. 

Getting the thing on alone was a workout, and I almost injured myself pretty badly trying to shimmy it up. Lots of grunting was happening, maybe a few “F bombs” were dropped … I don’t know, I kind of blacked out. 

After a really awkward and unsexy dance of getting my taas in said strapless bra, I was basically being smothered and stabbed from every angle (clearly it didn’t fit well, but when you don’t have any other options … because why would I own a plethora of strapless bras … you gotta work with what you have).

I was uncomfortable all day, walking around the party I was hosting making it look like I was pulling my dress up, but really I had the sides of my strapless bra in a death grip, trying desperately to slide it up even a centimeter so it would stop stabbing me. 

I was a trooper. I wore the thing all day. All. Damn. Day. In fact when people would ask me, “GASP … Kate are you wearing a strapless bra!?” I would say, “yes and LIFE SUCKS IN IT :::shameless self promotion, fist to chin, wink … and walk away cursing under my breath::: 

But we all hit a wall eventually. It happened to me right at the end of the party. I may or may not have had a couple of cocktails (I was drunk), and I just HAD it. No one was around except for my sister, so after a few failed attempts at doing it myself, I had my sister unhook my strapless bra (because that is normal) when no one was looking. I ripped it off, threw it in the corner of my living room (that happened … in all seriousness) … and basked in the glory of my new found freedom. And okay, maybe ONE person was around. But I looked them dead in the eyes and said, “YOU SAW NOTHING!” 

And that, my friends, was the first time I “free-balled” it (I’m sure that isn’t the right term and I’m sure my aunt is mortified reading this right now … Hi Aunt Pat). And I gotta say … it was GLORIOUS. How relaxing. How non-restrictive. How … satisfying! Although I did turn into a paranoid mess asking all of my female relatives for the remainder of the evening, “CAN YOU TELL I’M NOT WEARING A BRA!?!” They think I’m nuts in general for being so “supported” ALL of the time anyways. 

Yeah … so strapless bras still fucking suck. Forever and always. But at least this extraordinary evil one made me step outside of my comfort zone and go a little au natural. But no … don’t get excited (or freaked out … either or) … I’m not about to strut around the streets bra-less in a tight tank top. Nope. Not up in here. 

I like me some support … just not in the strapless form. 

Me. My Taas. And NuBra.

Screen shot 2014-04-21 at 7.46.36 PMI happen to have a thing for backless dresses. I think it is such a chic way to bring the sexy aspect without letting your taas out and about for everyone to see, or so much leg your vagina is about 10 seconds away from making its grand entrance.

With that being said, if you adore backless dresses like I do, it means one thing and one thing only: no bra allowed. Now, because of the title of my blog, people tend to think I’m a “bra whisperer” or some sort of “bra connoisseur.” Well kids, I’m nothing of the sort. I do get access to some of the finest legit “bra whisperers” on the planet though, who shame me for things like not washing my undergarments properly (apparently throwing your bras in with your darks so they get wrapped around your jeans like a snake isn’t okay), and how I put on my bras (again, slapping the thing on and going ain’t cool). Without them, I would be lost, though.

So when I found an amazing backless dress, I had to go to the experts for some help. Because unless you have bee stings for taas or fake ones that go against the laws of gravity, “free balling” ain’t an option. Free balling certainly wasn’t an option for me. I wouldn’t want to subject the world to that. You’re welcome.

I’m not one to go for the whole “backless bra that you slap on with some tape and call it a day.” Nope. I’ve tried it. Victoria Secret style. It was Satan. And the minute I started to sweat, it started sliding off. Do you know how awkward it is when you are trying to raise the roof on the dance floor and feel the stickiness of tape sliding down off your skin. It ain’t pretty or cool. In fact, you’re screwed. One time I brought masking tape just in case of a wardrobe malfunction. Yes, masking tape in da club. And it malfunctioned. So I spent the good part of the night trying to readjust the backless bra with masking tape in the bathroom. Turns out masking tape doesn’t stick either if you have sweat glans. Oh … and the whole “you can wear it again” thing … is complete bullshit. Just an FYI.

But then I met NuBra. After my previous experience, I was more than skeptical. But I had no other choice but to give it a whirl (there was a bad ass dress at stake). And an amazing “bra whisperer” slash good friend assured me that she wore it on her wedding day and it didn’t move.

So I wore it for the first time this weekend. Gotta say, it was an odd experience. NuBra is basically suction cups on your taas. I followed the application instructions (which were rather easy), and all of a sudden, I was strapped in and ready to go. Well, after I asked my girlfriends if my taas looked weird about 500 times (sorry, ladies). It most definitely didn’t give me super duper Wonder Bra-style lift, but it’s much better than nothing.

Of course the entire night I was waiting for the … taas to drop, if you will. The minute I started to perspire I kept thinking, “here we go, I’ll be in the bathroom in no time throwing this thing away, making me spend the rest of the evening with my arms crossed awkwardly, in a ‘DON’T LOOK AT ME’ way.” But I was wrong, it stayed in place the entire evening. Even during “Shout!” (I was at a wedding, clearly), except I didn’t jump up, jump up and get down. No one wants to see that. NuBra is good … but not THAT good.

So there ya have it. I hope you enjoyed my intimate explanation of my taas weekend in NuBra. I’m just excited that no longer do I have to see an amazing backless dress and be like, “whomp whomp … taas are just too big to free ball. Moving on.” Nope. Never again, I say, NEVER AGAIN!

HELP! I’m Scared Of A Bra

Screen shot 2014-04-21 at 7.46.36 PMSo I thought life sucks in a strapless bra … no, life probably sucks more in a bra that is backless. Yes. Backless.

I love backless dresses. Always have. I think it is a really classy way to show a little skin without having your taas out or a slit going all the way up to your who-ha. I’m not talking about your entire back exposed so everyone can see your tramp stamp, no. Just a little, you know, peek-a-boo, if you will.

I stupidly fell in love with a dress at Zara that was backless … and on sale … for $20. I mean how could you possibly resist a to-die-for sale like this, right? It was that romantic length down to my ankles, cap sleeves. You know what, let me show you a picture … see below:

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Lovely … right? I was slash am obsessed with it. It’s comfortable, simple … everything a girl could want in a dress. But wait a tick … how does one with rather large taas get away without wearing a bra with this dress? If I do wear a bra, it will be exposed in the back, and I’m pretty sure only Carrie Bradshaw can pull off exposing a lime green bra whereas I would look like I got tossed from the hot mess express. So … what the hell do you do? Because unfortunately going braless is not an option. Trust me. Half of the room would be really excited when I walked in, leading me to turn 50 shades of red and run away in a panic, and half would be trying to sew a scarlett “S” on my chest for “slut.” No thanks. Also, this dress is slightly see-through. Le sigh … anything else Zara dress, ya needy jerk!?

So I went to the experts (shout out to Kim over at Linda the Bra lady), and cried to her with my brassues. I had tried a backless bra from Victoria’s Secret that basically had masking tape on the sides that you would stick to either side of your taas, which supposedly you could wear more than once, but in real life would slide off the minute you began to sweat. And quite frankly I didn’t want to have to carry masking tape in my purse to this event I was attending in said above dress. And yes, once upon a time when I was in college, I wore that stupid Victoria’s Secret backless bra and brought masking tape with me in case it fell off. Which it did. Pan to me masking taping my taas in the bathroom of a bar. Stay classy, self.

So enter Nubra bra stage left. When I met with Kim, I explained to her my bra dilemma and how I really can’t “free ball,” if you will (what … it’s okay for guys to say it but not me?). She introduced me to the Nubra bra and immediately I had flashbacks of the time back in college where I was masking taping my bra back on in some shady bar bathroom. I’m a big girl now … I need a big girl bra. According to Kim, she wore this bra on her wedding day, when it was a bazillion degrees and never came off. Wait, what? Yeah … I know … I was amazed, too. I was sold immediately because quite frankly, you don’t screw with a girl on her wedding day … especially one who is a bra expert. Ring me up.

Since purchasing, I’ve taken the Nubra bra on a test drive, and yes, it is thoroughly strange to wear … but oddly comfortable. No, it doesn’t support your taas in a way that magical underwire can, but does the trick for something staying up with just adhesive cups. You know that feeling of falling when you are just about to fall asleep? Well, this is the feeling I get walking around with this thing. Except instead of falling I’m waiting with bated breath for this thing to fall off.

I will be wearing Nubra this Thursday at an event, and need as many positive vibes as possible that a heinous wardrobe malfunction doesn’t occur. I suppose that is why alcohol was invented, right? Don’t get me wrong, I trust Kim’s opinion, but there is something about big taas and no underwire … and no back for that matter … that makes me EXTREMELY nervous.

Stay tuned for the aftermath post!

Let Me, Let Me Bra-ducate YAH!

Ladies, I feel as if we are neglecting our taas a bit. Myself included. It’s true … let’s own it. Hence why I made the trek to Manhattan yesterday to have the best-of-the-best in all the land of bra fitters bra-ducate me on why breasts matter, and deserve to be uplifted and fitted in fine, beautiful fabric. Even though they live under pretty clothes doesn’t mean they can’t transform your whole entire look, am I right?

Now yes, bras are notoriously expensive. Do I want to buy a pair of shoes for $89 or do I want to buy a really pretty bra for $89? Shoes have always won in my book, until I was made very aware of the fact that the bras I own … well … need to be burned.

I walked into Linda the Bra Lady‘s store wearing my cutest little Betsy Johnson bra … that I purchased maybe a year and a 1/2 ago. I just knew it didn’t fit me properly since, between you and I, my taas have grown a bit over the past couple of months … thanks birth control (yep … we’re gettin’ REAL honest today). And women should get fitted more than every four years … taa sizes aren’t forever. Remember that.

So since I’ve been through the bra fitting process before, I was well aware of the fact that this awesomely talented bra fitter I had just met, shout out to Kim, was about to get all up in my bid-ness, and I had no choice but to own it and be okay with it. So I took my shirt off so she could inspect what was going on under the hood, if you will. Wait … ew … that sounds really … just ew. Sorry. Anywho … she measured me and turns out, hey, my bra size wasn’t too far off, BUT she made it very clear to me that my bra needed to be retired … or burned, either or.

But let’s talk about “bra size” shall we? A, B, C, D, double D, E …wait F?! Who the eff is an F?! Umm … actually, a lot of women are nowadays. When you tell someone your bra size is past a double D … you probably get some strange looks like you’re an alien from outer space blessed with huge taas, or sheer “jackpot” excitement from dudes. But turns out, most of you are probably wearing the wrong bra size and should go back to the drawing board … because YOU, yes YOU, may just be past a D, my friend. There is nothing wrong with going past a double D. It doesn’t mean you are porn star status or a freak. It means women are built differently nowadays, and we need to realize the “norm” is no longer A-DD. Size is just a size. Comfort is everything. And for the love of God, own it. I’m proud to say I’m in between a double D and an E … what what!

So thanks to Kim, I walked away from the experience with a plethora of bra knowledge … and a LOT of cute bras … that you can benefit from (not my bras … the tips). Ahem:

1. If you can pull the back of your bra out and stick your arm through it, and maybe another person, it’s too loose … and loose bras do nothing for us. Loose bras ride up your back … then your taas fall down. (I feel like someone should make a nursery rhyme about that … Loose bras ride UP … then your boobs fall DOWN … hmm I’ll work on that a bit more)

2. The back of the bra is most important. It should fit snug around the center of your back.

3. With that being said, and brace yourselves for this one, there is NOTHING we can do about back fat. I asked. A 9-year bra fitting expert told me this. We all have back fat. I do, the stick figure model does, my cat does. It’s time we own it. But posture is everything, remember that. #BackFatAcceptance2014

4. Pay attention to how you put on your bra. I’m guilty of flinging the thing on, throwing on my shirt and being done with it, too. Nope. Here’s how it goes down:
Step 1: Stick arms through straps
Step 2: Place underwire under taas
Step 3: Reach arms around your back and clip bra on*. Make sure to clip on the loosest hook.
Step 4: Adjust taas in bra. Pull underwire to the side to make sure they are sitting pretty.
*I know, I know, I’m all about the lazy girl’s style of clipping in the front, then shimmying around and putting arms through straps. But this is how the pros do it. Sheesh, now I feel bad for making fun of boys who couldn’t undo a bra. That shit is NOT easy.)

5. Bras are delicate, therefore do not wash them like you would a pair of blue jeans. Hand washing is the way to be, kids. Get a delicate soap, perhaps a bucket, then hang gently on a rack or one of these rad contraptions below. You pay good money for them, mine as well take care of them, right?-font-b-Suction-b-font-font-b-cup-b-font-mini-portable-travel-socks-fontSo there you have it! I’m wearing one of my new bras today, and I’m telling you, I’m very aware of my taas … in a good way of course. I’m walking taller, I feel confident … I mean, every woman deserves to feel like this every single day. I literally purchased a bra that is so pretty and fits so well that I almost don’t want to wear a shirt. I mean I will, but like, if I had the option, I probably wouldn’t. BUT I’ll do you all a favor and cloth myself properly.

With all of this being said I demand every one of you reading this to go take care of your taas! Go. Right now. I don’t care if you’re saving the world one spreadsheet at a time. GO. SHOO! SHOO!

Ps. I may or may not have found a strapless bra that I didn’t loathe … but out of principle I still hate its face.

Pss. BIG thanks to Kim over at Linda the Bra Lady! She’s amazing and fun and so adorable … go let her bra-ducate you and let her get up all in your bid-ness! And also a big thanks to Carla Marie over at the Elvis Duran and the Morning Show for coming with me on this excursion of taa TLC!

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