There I was, standing at the deli line at work, when my two-month-old nude, lace 36C bra’s underwire broke through the fabric and dug into my skin.
“How could this happen?!” I asked my coworker. “I just got this bra in November!”
It doesn’t matter if you hand wash and air dry your bras, no matter how well you take care of them, bras are simply not built to last. I had had just about enough of underwires popping, straps falling, and most of all, the seemingly permanent red marks on my shoulders, sides, and back.
I’m sure every single woman who’s ever worn a bra has had some trouble or grievance about wearing them. The sad truth is that we are all probably walking around not wearing the right size. Different stores have different cup dimensions, so in one store I may be a size B and in another, I’m a C. According to a Victoria’s Secret retail employee who measured me, I’m a DD, but this is why women never truly know their real bra size (I’m very clearly not a double D). It was then that I consulted my best friend, Michelle (who often goes braless because she’s a size A) about potentially ditching bras temporarily. She reminded me that bras are meant to support, not cover boobs, which made my decision easier: I would go braless for a week.
What I hoped to get out of it:
My main objective was to just get rid of the annoying red lines. I also wanted to be more confident about not wearing a bra because when I see other women doing it, I always admire their confidence, but think that I would never be able to do it.
What I thought it’d be like:
Prior to starting my trial braless week, I thought I would have a tough time finding shirts to wear because most of my t-shirts are white or a sheer black, so I thought for sure my nipples would show and I didn’t know if I was quite ready for that yet. I worried about people noticing and silently judging my decision, especially because I just started a new job and I didn’t want my new coworkers or managers to think I always went all “free the nipples.”
How it actually felt:
The first day of my braless week, I had to work, and the material of my work shirt is polyester and not very comfortable on uncovered nipples. I was glad that my apron covered the top half of my shirt because I was still unsure about this whole experiment. I asked my friend if she could tell I wasn’t wearing a bra and she said no and she’s not one to lie to spare your feelings. She also mentioned that she often goes braless at work, despite the itchy polyester shirt.
The first few days, whenever I would accidentally touch my chest or reach across it and feel my unsupported boobs, I would get nervous for a second, thinking I forgot to put a bra on that day and then quickly remember that it was a conscious decision. The first couple days, I felt the need to subtly cover my chest. I wasn’t crossing my arms constantly, but I was definitely not sticking my chest out. Finding shirts to wear was not as hard as I thought it’d be because most, if not all, of my clothes are naturally loose fitting.
It could’ve been because I was sick the week I chose to do this, so I was already feeling lethargic, but not wearing a bra made me feel lazy. When I’m at home, just lounging around, or in my pajamas, I never wear a bra, so when I was in public, in classes and at work, I still associated the feeling of being bra-free with laziness and lethargy. Putting a bra on, to me, is equivalent to putting pants on or drinking coffee; it means you’re ready to get out of bed and start the day.
On the fifth day of my braless week, it was my roommate’s birthday, so we went to Kilroy’s to celebrate it. I was proud that I didn’t cave mid-week and put a bra on to go to a bar, and I was also feeling less self-conscious about my uncovered chest.
What I missed:
That same night of my roommate's birthday, we went to Jimmy John's where I realized I lost the back of my earring. Had I had a bra on, it would've caught my earring back. I may have missed having my chest supported for work, when I was moving around a lot, but I can tell you for sure that I did not miss having to adjust my bra straps every five minutes or that sweet feeling of relief when I go home and take my bra off after a long day, only to find deep, red etchings on my skin.
The takeaway? I don’t think I can be one of those women who burns all of their bras and vows to never wear one again, but I would definitely feel more confident going out without one from time to time. I’ve never been one of those women who’s ashamed or embarrassed of their boobs, but after this week, I appreciate mine more and don’t see why they should be covered all the time, other than for activity. On the last day, my skin was completely red mark free:
