Tag: not wearing a bra

Life In A Sports Bra

.Reading time 6 minutes.


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. 

The First Time I Let The Ladies Out

.Reading time 6 minutes.

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.