Black Lace
2002-08-27 @ 11:21 a.m.
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Every time I put on a bra I remember when I was a kid how my mother and a friend of hers taught to put one on. They turned it around backwards so they could hook it front where they could see it better. Then they scooted it around (I started to say slid it around, but the movement is much less smooth that the word "slide" implies.), pulled the cups up over their breasts (which I thought at the time were huge) and put their arms through the straps. Then each one bent over and shook her breasts gently into the cups so as to evenly distribute them in the material. While they were doing this I remember one of them say "fall in" in that get-in-line-boys military sort of tone of voice, then they both laughed. I was in awe of their expertise with this difficult piece of equipment.
Buying my first bra was an exciting event. I looked forward to it as a rite of passage into womanhood. Then sometime in college, I think, I got bored with them and stopped wearing them. I haven't worn bras for most of my life (I'm not a particularly small girl, either). A doctor once told me that not wearing bras would cause my breasts to sag, but I passed the pencil test with flying colors until into my 40's, or at least my late 30's.
But lately I've gone through phases of rediscovering bras as a sexy addition to my wardrobe. I particularly like wearing them to work because on the outside I usually dress like one of the boys; jeans, t-shirts (the free ones with a winery name or beer brand on them) and work boots. I like knowing that I'm wearing something girly and sexy underneath and it feels like a little bit of bondage snug on my chest. Today I'm wearing a lacy black bra under a black tank top with baggy jeans and a big cotton overshirt that I borrowed from Badsnake (the boss keeps the air conditioner turned down way low). It's like a little sexy secret just for me, and now for you.
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