Most of us were at least in diapers in the 60’s when women in great numbers started to roar. The night skies were alight with bonfires burning…what else—their bras? But not me. I had waited way too long to sprout enough to need a bra—how could I give it up without a fight? So I kept my medieval torture chamber with straps, wearing it proudly as a badge of honor for that rite of passage.
Motherhood brought on a whole new bra phase—the nursing bra became my constant companion. Never leave home, go to bed, or even take a shower without it. Wet, sour and sagging…enough said.
Next entered the divorced bras. You know the ones, décolleté and slinky. So what if I had to roll the girls up to get them in there?
Now I’m a boomer A.K.A. ‘bloomer’. Those days of wishing to fill up a B cup have long gone. Years, gravity, and pounds have had their toll and now we’re into extra heavy-duty industrial bras. They come complete with enough steel wire to retread the radials on my car. They poke and pinch and otherwise annoy me until dinner time…that’s when I’ve had enough. At that point, where am I going and who’s coming here? After dinner it’s all bras off. Ah, sweet freedom. The only thing is…my friends don’t understand why I have dinner at 2 o’clock!
Jane
ROFLMAO is all I have to say - it's funny cause it's true!
ReplyDeleteLol...bras are way overrated. I wish we would all stop wearing them and be on equal footing. Of course I would most likely trip over mine if I did that and be lying face down on the ground.:)
ReplyDeleteI'm willing to risk it, though.
I'm with you on that Ruth Anne...let's start a movement...LOL!
ReplyDeleteJane, You are a gifted writer. Witty, thought provoking, and so true to how women feel. Thanks for being real, and it's so nice to meet Bertha. The first few blogs that I started in most recent order, I thought, who is Bertha? I've got so many things on my calendar today that I had not planned prior, one of which is to google myself, catch up on some journaling, think of a name for my inner self, I usually just say, Self, when I start talking to myself, I may even floss because I've got a dentist appt. on Thursday and I'm as dedicated as you were to flossing. I have to admit that I love the dentist though. I love getting the laughing gas, that fly away feeling just for a few minutes. I know that sounds crazy, it's just my legal way of escape a few times a year. Love your blogs. I had no idea you had written a book, that's on my agenda too. But the closet, that will have to wait, I'm going to Gatlinburg with my Bunco friends this weekend so that can wait. Thanks again for sharing.
ReplyDeleteBelinda,
ReplyDeleteSo sorry to have complicated your day...well...maybe not! Glad to here I'm not the only one who doesn't love going to the dentist...and mine is a doll...just don't like being there. Maybe I'll give the gas a try...
Gatlinburg...with girl frinds...Bunco...sounds like a blast...try to stay out of trouble.
And thanks for your kind words...Bertha would love to come and live with you...I can meet you at the DG one afternoon on my way home if you'd like...