The other evening my friends and I went out to a little café for coffee. As always, when with friends, many different topics of discussion came up. Vacations and hot spots, husbands and children, food, money, religion, and the inevitable discussion about bras.
I’m not sure why bras always seem to be a hot topic when we get together, but for whatever reason, it always comes up. Maybe it’s our collective hate of these shoulder digging, under wire pinching, torture devices. Sure, they can be pretty, lacy, and sexy, but they are also restricting, uncomfortable, and irritating. I’ve yet to meet a woman who says “I love my bra. I can’t wait to put it on again!”
I’ll be honest. I get home from work and my bra is the first thing that comes off after my shoes. Sometimes it’s even before my shoes. Sometimes it’s in the car on the way home. Don’t judge me. I know that you secretly wish you did the same thing. My favorite day of the week is Sunday when I don’t have to put one on at all! Unless I’m going out of the house. Then my mother’s teachings, which are firmly ingrained in my brain, overcome any fleeting thought that no one will notice if I don’t put one on.
Because they will. So I do.
So the next time you have one of those carefree, lazy Sundays when the only thing you have to worry about wearing is your pajama pants and a t-shirt, free the girls and make some easy, delicious, creamy mushroom soup, and enjoy it without any restrictions.
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