Monday, 26 March 2012
Bra Stuffing. Let's Discuss!!!
As soon as girls notice breasts (I think we were about 11 when I was growing up - nowadays I think they are 5) we are conflicted. I personally fought the whole idea … how the hell do you catch a football properly with those stupid things in the way? I think that was pretty much when I discovered the beauty of duct tape … and such was my first intro in a bra of sorts ... sans the lace of course. You try finding duct tape with lace. But I have to tell you, even duct tape can not deter Mother Nature when she is intent on blossoming. When Mother Nature commands you to "bloom" you start petalling!!
Other girls embrace blossoming boobdom and run straight to the bottom drawer of their mothers and older sisters where they keep the beautiful bras they are saving for a "special occasion" which usually means, "when they lose another 50 lbs.," and immediately try on the "ahhh bra." They stand in front of the mirror and "ahhh" at themselves. They pray their brothers don't catch them because they usually turn it into a "haha" bra with one quick snort. AND they have big mouths. The young girl admires herself , turning one way and then the other and wonder if the lace is suppose to cave in on itself like that or what the problem is?
Now we had two choices, we could cry, admit defeat, consider running away to join sideshow in the circus (wondering if there is a freak called the "breastless woman") or we could start shopping for a "training bra." The training bra was always lacy and pretty and had a little bow on it somewhere. The problem is that they always end up under your arm pits because there is no boobilage happening to hook them under and hold them down BUT you had ample opportunity to make a big deal out of fixing your bra strap and wearing clothes where you could definitely see the line across your back. This was heady stuff people. "Hello I am in Grade 6 and I HAVE to wear a bra now!! Yes it happened overnight, just cannot manage these babies without support!"
Looking back, I think the training bra's job was camoflaugistic in nature. It had to divert attention away from the non-boobed chest with its lace … and potential. It was like promise ring we wore around our chest. "One day," it whispered seductively , "YOU shall have cleavage!"
That love affair with the training bra was usually short lived. It was not long until you realized there was no training going on and even if you used your arms to squeeze them together, turned sideways and squinted … nothing was really happening. So you spent your days leafing through the back of mags like "True Confessions," which you also happened to find in the bottom drawer next to the "special occasion" bras, and scanning the adds for "breast enhancement pumps." Disturbingly, "Field and Stream" carried those same ads. Breast enhancement pumps ranged from simple pumps that everyone pretended did not look like the horn on your brothers bicycle ... to battery chargers with suction cups. Since kids back then were not allowed to rent a private post office box was no way in heck you could risk ordering it. In those days kids were not allowed privacy or rights either. Plastic was just being invented so surgery was out as well.
So we worked with what we had. Toilet paper! We stuffed our bras with toilet paper and suddenly, overnight …. the training bras were replaced with real bras. And we pranced!! Well I didn't. I liked to point out to the other girls that one of their breasts was kinda lopsided or that they had dropped one on the floor. Many a reputation was ruined forever with rumours of "she stuffs her bra" and many a brother was paid to find out for the other guys! We don't like to talk much about how many brothers actually never made it to adulthood back then but in our private moments, together ... we refer to them as "the missing generation." Oh we were young and foolish right? I mean who ever considered how damn uncomfortable bras could be? We just saw lace, and growing up, and pretty, and lace and bows, and freedom. I mean you never even thought of emancipation until you had breasts ... breasts were the trigger. Get boobs will travel ....suddenly you just wanted to be ... a woman!!! No-one told us how exhausting it would all be. And the weight of breasts? And the endless fascination … like is life really all about your breast size? Pullease ….
Then we moved to the padded bra … because it is not bad enough that you have to wear two layers around your breasts when you are playing basketball … lets add "quilts!" What is not to love about being 13, feeling insecure with your looks, insecure with your body which is suddenly acting like some kind of mutant teenage turtle, growing hair, and pimples, and lumps and then having to contend with even sweatier boobs?
Of course there were girls amongst us who had Double D's in grade 4. THOSE girls definitely ran away to join the circus. Well perhaps "ran" is a bit overstated ....they would knock themselves out if they actually "ran."
Except you know, that first time you have a mammogram, and you are there naked and the technician explains to you what she is going to do to your breast … and you are standing there with your mouth open, gasping for air and screaming in your mind … "you wanna do WHAT?" … THAT was when I thought, maybe bras were best stuffed with Toilet Paper. I have never wasted a moment worrying about toilet paper screaming. I am, however, connected on the most visceral of levels to my own screams when my breast is pancaked in a metal vice and someone is yelling from off in a darkened corner, "Don't move please." (what …try to escape …. WITHOUT my breast???)
This got me thinking. Maybe we could forgo the breasts all together … I mean how many women bother with breast feeding these days anyway? What the heck do we need them for? We could borrow some of those micro skin breasts to put in our bras. You know the ones they sell at sex shops with the finger hole in the box inviting you to "feel me" because they are just like real skin?? I have no idea how I know some of this stuff … I have a "friend" who went to a sex store once and talks about it a lot. That way we can adjust the size like we do in Second Life, make them jiggle or not, AND most importantly … on those nights when we are not in the mood… we can just hand them over to our hubbies and let them have a good time while we get some sleep. "Seriously .. If they are that important to you … you hold them … I insist!"