LINGERIE
I Don’t Wear a Bra
So what?
My pal Deb has just one criteria when it comes to shopping for clothing.
“Do I have to wear a bra to make this work?” she’ll ask. “If I do, I’m not buying it.”
She’s had to walk away from some great outfits over the years but has no regrets.
“I like the way it feels,” she says about going braless. “And I like the way it looks.”
I’m with her 100 percent. I, like Deb, am a 1970s-era feminist. Although we’ve modified some of the more radical beliefs we held back then, a lot of us jettisoned our bras decades ago and never looked back. (And no, we didn’t burn them. That’s a myth.)
We’re a bra-free crowd. (And a Spanx-free crowd, too.) If a dress needs perky, stand-up tits to work or is so see-through that wearing it with no bra is obscene, we’ll just keep shopping.
Although I have no problem buying a shirt that, when worn, hints at the fact that I do have breasts. Unlike Barbie, I’m a real woman, and I’ve got nipples. Deal with it.
Like most girls growing up in the ’60s, I went through the usual phases. Looking with envy at my fellow 6th-graders who had “developed.” Longing for my first bra. Begging my mom for a so-called “training bra” which, basically, was a bra for a girl who…
