Bras

I was going through writer’s block today.  Sitting in my chair, looking to the left and to the right, as if doing this my fingers would suddenly come to life and words would pour out like there was no tomorrow.  Hmm, no such luck.

I then looked at a friend’s status and saw what kind of day she was having.  Apparently, her boys were trying on her bras.  Yes, that’s right.  I am sure she is quite entertained watching her boys, whom are in elementary school, parading in her bras.  Yes folks, summer don’t get better than that!  This friend had actually said, “Why not write about my family?”  My response?  “You might have something here.”

As her boys are parading around in bras, this got me thinking about my bra days, or lack thereof, when I really don’t care and feel like kicking them as I walk.

When you are a young girl, you just CANNOT WAIT to strap them in.  My first “strapping” was in 5^th grade.  But what did the strapping lead to in school?  Boys snapping them in the back.  Nothing like having hook marks in your back from the snapping.  This is what I have been waiting for?  To have battle scars from wearing a bra?

Now 6^th grade rolls around and things are quite different.  The boys who were master snappers are now ogling you from top to top.  Yes, top to top.  Lord help you now if you weren’t WEARING a bra, because then they would tease you to death.  They were curious about what size cup you were, too.  If you had an A cup, which I did at the time, why even bother?

So it goes and the battle of the bra continues through life.  Nice and perky when you are young.  Oh how good your boobages (my made up word) look in that million dollar bra you are wearing by Victoria’s Secret.  Who am I kidding?  At that point in your life you can attach two pieces of Kleenex to a string to cover you and you would look great!

As with everything else, when we get older our boobs like to go south.  Especially if you add having kids to the mix.  Thank you children!  I brought you life and my reward is kicking my boobs around.  I guess it gives you something to do when you are bored.  Imagine this conversation, “What did you do today, honey?”  “Well, since I had nothing better to do, I played a game of kickball with my boobs and I WON!”

Gone are the days of the single hook in the back.  Hello days of double and even triple hooks.  Padding, underwire, over wire, everywhere wire, that is what I have today.  No more using one hand to undo and release the beasts.  At times, at least for me, it can look like I am swatting flies or doing a Bollywood dance just to get out of the dreaded bolder holder.

So young girls, enjoy your A’s.  If those boys are picking on you when you are young and also giving you battle scars on your back, if you have the guts, give them a wedgey.  Let them see how it feels when something is pulling on the ballage (another word I made up) area.

For all of us getting older gals, I say let them hang sometimes.  Any form of suffocation is not good.  Besides, there is nothing better than playing a game of kickball with yourself and you always win.  J

*This entry is dedicated to Sheri Kollwitz Graegin and Family.  Thank you for the inspiration.