I, Your Bra, Have Some Demands That Must Be Met
You were so happy to get rid of me but now the tables have turned
Well, well, well. Look who has come crawling back to me, the bra. Oh? You thought I’d simply forget all the slights? The mean jokes made at my expense? The “I’m never wearing a bra again” declarations one month into your new stay-at-home life?
Newsflash! I haven’t forgotten! Not by a long-shot. And now that I’m the one in control, you best be afraid. Because I have demands. Demands that must be met before I, your bra, accept you back with open straps.
First, let’s get one thing straight. I don’t need you, you need me. You think this kind of gorgeous construction magically appears in the world? I was specifically designed for a purpose. You’re just lucky to be here with how slapdash human procreation is. And let’s be honest, I’ve always been more supportive of you than your own parents, so why would you reject me so ruthlessly when the first opportunity arose?
NOPE! You don’t get to “explain” yourself. I am speaking now. While you’ve been jiggling about the house during your bread baking and decorative wall weaving phases, I’ve had time to get together with all the other bras in the neighborhood to discuss things. No, we met online, stupid. I’m a bra, I can’t walk. But I can talk…
