Bras are a social construct designed to restrict women’s abilities to perform everyday tasks that men get to perform without a single hinderance. Or something like that. I just fucking hate wearing them. There’s METAL in it! My tits are not trying to escape a high security prison. I do not need to strap them down like they are mental patients. If I want to walk around with my high beams on (as my mom calls hard nips), then I should be allowed to. What is stopping us? There’s no laws against nipples. There’s no “No Bra, No Service” signs. Nothing but a few side eyes from the conservative types. So after seeing this Buzzfeed video, I decided to go on a week-long braless bender.
I’m a 36D (subtle brag), so it’s no secret when I’m not wearing a bra. When I told my boyfriend about my initiative, he first told me to prove it. Then he was worried that other guys would be staring at me, which was strange because he’s not the jealous type. I reassured him that the fact that my nipples are secured is not the reason guys have been restraining themselves from flinging their bodies at me. My mom asked me not to write about my boobs on the internet, but there’s a lot of stuff that I write about that she does not entirely approve of, and since I am a journalist with integrity, and I am here to give the people what they want: titties.
Thursday, Day 1
I walked around feeling like I had a naughty secret. It was just a bra, but it was more than that. It was a feeling of freedom. A feeling that I didn’t have to be ashamed of what I naturally had. I felt like a whole new woman who was completely in control of her body. That was until that night when I went to the bars. At two different points in the night, guys walked up to me and grabbed a handful, laughed, and then walked away. I just stood there in shock. Just because my boobs weren’t locked away didn’t mean they were open for business. I left the bar with my arms crossed. I didn’t even finish my drink.
Friday, Day 2
I almost forgot about my initiative when I was getting dressed in the morning. It had been habit to put on a bra before my shirt since I was pretending to need one in middle school. I got hungover bagels with a friend and spent the day gossiping until we were blue in the face. It felt so nice to lay down on the couch without being jabbed in the back with metal.
Saturday, Day 3
Today, I went formal dress shopping with my roommate. It made it infinitely easier to try dresses on without a bra, since I usually don’t wear bras with dresses anyway. It was one less thing to take on and off during my feeble attempts to find a dress that would make my date come at the sight of me, but wouldn’t bring me up to standards. We ran into some sisters, and as I was telling them about my dress problems, I happened to mention going braless, and one of them reached out and poked me on the tit. Are bras really the only thing stopping people from just grabbing gazongas?!
Sunday, Day 4
I saw Amy Schumer live. This has nothing to do with me going braless, but a part of me was so excited that I wanted to flash the stage. While shoving my way through the crowd to get to my seat, my full boob was pressing up against strangers, a feeling that was unpleasant for all parties involved.
Monday, Day 5
I did a presentation in my class. I’m hoping that my A+ performance distracted everyone from the fact that while I violently spoke with my hands, I was flopping around like a fish out of water that is also having a seizure while being electrocuted.
Tuesday, Day 6
MY BACK IS FUCKING KILLING ME. I TAKE IT BACK. I TAKE IT ALL BACK. I NEED THE SWEET COMFORT AND SUPPORT THAT ONLY A BRA CAN PROVIDE. PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY. THE CHAFING IS INSUFFERABLE. TWO MORE PEOPLE GRABBED MY TITS. I AM SO OVER IT.
Wednesday, Day 7
I am ashamed to admit, but I caved. Today I am wearing a sports bra. I wanted so badly to break the bra barrier, but it felt like it was going to break me.
Although I couldn’t make it the whole week, that was the longest time I went without wearing a bra since I saw that one episode of Lizzie McGuire. I learned a lot this week. Most people don’t know you’re not wearing a bra unless you tell them, but don’t tell them because that is an open invitation to cop a feel. Don’t go down stairs too fast without a bra or else the sheer bouncing force may rip your boobs clear off of your body. If you don’t want to wear a bra, wear dark colors and patterns to hide the fact your could cut diamonds with your nips. But most importantly, bras are made for a reason: support of the fat sacks hanging off of our chest. While it will be hard to convince me that I need a Super Duper 3 Cup Push Up With Ruby-Encrusted Lace to be sexy, you won’t see me at a Bra Burning any time soon..