Strange as this sounds, I must have my bra on in order to write my blog. At least during the day time hours. At night the bra gets whipped off with a huge sigh of relief. Free at last! You’d think that I’d want that liberating feeling, letting it all flow. But that’s not the case.
A very together business associate of mine, who works from home, does not sit down at her desk until she is showered, dressed, hair, makeup and accessories in place. That is impressive and I understand the gestalt behind that mindset but it’d be noon time if I set that ambitious goal every day.
I’m happy typing away in my PJ pants, tee shirt, slippers and of course, my bra. Underpants not required. In fact, elasticized pants are preferred so I can dash in and out of the bathroom with minimal intrusion. Right about now, you’re probably starting to think that I’m weird. But if you read any of my prior postings you already knew that I’m somewhat off center and damn proud of it. It took half a century to get off that straight and narrow path of controlled, polite correctness.
Truth be told, my breast have become quite pendulous over the past few years. The bra holds me in place and anchors me. Without it on, I’d get distracted. I’d start thinking about my sagging boobs. I’d worry about them hitting my keyboard or my lap. Not good. Soon, I’d slink over to the hallway mirror, and in the harsh “Maggie May” morning light, start inspecting the furrow in my brow. If only I could move some of the boob fat to my scrawny chicken neck.
Next, I’d scurry back to the computer and start researching the Lifestyle Lift, or perhaps injectables, and try to convince myself that a little bacterial toxin botulin, aka Botox, may not be all that bad. Then it’d be lunch time. I’d start shoveling food in my mouth, what with my obsessing, gain more weight, making my breasts even bigger.
Get my point? My bra is like underwire support for the creative process. Buoying me up rather than bringing me down. A feminine version of the pick yourself up by the bootstraps philosophy, but with a little lace and accepting grace.