The Champagne of People

My bras are woefully out of date.  I’m not even sure they deserve to be called bras at this point and “out of date” is the understatement of the century.  The last time I went bra shopping was a year ago when I bought three skimpy bralettes (hardy sufficient for a 36DDD) for a vacation which would be too warm to suffer through underwire.  The last time a bought a real bra was in 2016, after losing 100 lbs, and thus purely out of necessity (I had previously been a 40DD).  So now I have ONE “real” bra with torn lining and a crestfallen band, and three “bralettes” that are simply not up to the task, and I can’t help but wonder how the breast-ual altitude is affecting my mental outlook.  

 

Boobs aside, it has been an interesting year so far—changes and challenges at work and at home, vocational conundrums, the general mental upheaval I’m told all late-20-somethings experience, etc.  So, in a world where many fundamental and foundational things seem unstable and beyond my control, I want to focus on improving and nurturing the few things I do have control over, and my breasts seem a great place to start.

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 “I can’t help but wonder how the breast-ual altitude

is affecting my mental outlook.”

 

You’d think that, over the last six months (and two years) of painful underwire and fraying elastic, I might have come to this conclusion sooner.  This is a part of my body we’re talking about, yet new bras have been the last thing I wanted to spend my money on.  They’re expensive, I’m picky, it won’t fit, the excuses are endless.  Yet I know this one small gift to myself will have an impact on literally every day of my life.  How big that impact is is irrelevant. Buying a new bra is something that (a) is within my control) and (b) will have a positive influence on my life.  That doesn’t sound like the toughest criteria, but you may or may not be surprised by how hard it is to fit that bill.

 

This begs the question, though, why it took me so long to take this step.  It can't be the pricetag alone—I have dropped just as much or more on a meal or tickets to a show or groceries; things that last a fraction of the time and bring me much less personal and enduring satisfaction.  Is my reluctance in buying a new bra an act of self-harm?  

 

I do think, generally speaking, I'm terrible at prioritizing myself.  I don’t mean treating myself, I’m great at that. I mean choosing things for myself that will actively improve my life or help me work towards a goal.  Facemasks and wine and manicures don’t do this. You may not think a bra will do this either, but you would be wrong!

 

On a functional level, for a busty lady, a good bra improves posture and relieves pressure off the lower back.  On an emotional level, looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing someone who is put together and lifted up, rather than raggedy ol’ droopy boobs, boosts confidence and energy.  And on a sexual level, there is nothing better (in my opinion) of knowing you’ve got on some cute panties, better yet *matching* panties, that are purely for your own personal enjoyment.  That’s well worth the $70 a pop.  

 

 “my boobs won’t be low for long, and neither will my spirits”

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Maybe I’m putting too much stock in the smallest of ladies garments, but maybe not.  Maybe a new bra is just what I need to get my head straightened on tighter. Maybe taking this small and painfully obvious step toward self-care will help me continue to take bigger ones.  Today underwear, tomorrow a marathon… or something like that. All I know is, my boobs won’t be low for long, and neither will my spirits.