Oh, is that the postman? I’ll get the door.

Your mammaries need support, my dear, so stop pretending that they don’t.

In other aspects of our lives “support” is welcome, but buying foundation-wear that actually does what it’s supposed to do seems like a failure.

We can say “My boss really supported me on the initiative to switch to compost-able dishware in the cafeteria;” we can say, “My husband was amazingly supportive when I left my job as senior vice-president of nano-particle design and opened a pottery shop,” but we can’t seem to say, “I need a bra with a lot of support.”

Like it’s bad that your, girls, need support. A chest wall has muscles, but the, ladies, do not.

You—you!—need to support them.

Let’s start with the jeans – to ease you into the bra thing

Sometimes, you have to throw out your jeans.


Don’t tell me no. Sometimes you just have to do it.

And it’s no good trying on the jeans to see if you should throw them out: you already know you should throw them out, so trying them on just makes you delusional.

You aren’t going to hang your jeans on the wall like that bikini in that yogurt commercial and eat nothing but yogurt for six months until you can fit into them.

You aren’t, and you know you aren’t, but when you try them on to see if you should throw them out you con yourself into believing that you WILL hang them on the the wall and you WILL eat nothing but yogurt for six months, even though you know you won’t.

Girlfriend, just give it up. There’s no shame here, just clothes that are past their wearable prime.

Well, bra-dee-da to you, too

I get it, not throwing out the jeans: it’s that “maybe…” fantasy of one day having the same body you had that night you wore them to the Tom Petty concert at The Garden.

But the not-throwing-out-old-bras thing? That I don’t get it.

Especially if you are, how you say, boobalicious; you have to throw out your bras once in a while. They aren’t made of kevlar or anything, right? So they are going to get worn and stretched and be no good to your girls.

Boobie-doobies are heavy things held up by a half-inch-wide strap at most, and even if that strap is made of a new high-tensile-strength copolymer (which it won’t be), at some point it will lose its hold-uppiness which will result in your droop-downiness and you will have to throw the bra out.

You can do this – I have faith in you

You will have to throw them out, the bras that droop and the undies that are ripped.

“Ripped” includes the unravelling of the thread that attaches the waistband to the panties, possibly in many places.

“Ripped” also means that the fabric has become threadbare, allowing holes to appear which are categorically not the holes through which you put your legs.

Even though you know this, you will continue to think that you can wear them.

You shouldn’t (think that), and you can’t (wear them).

Peek-a-boo, badly

People who don’t know when to throw out their underwear have no idea how many other people can see their underwear:

  • through garments that are more shear than one realizes;
  • over the waistband of trousers that are just-that-much too tight;
  • in between the buttons that don’t quite cover the thing the buttons are supposed to be covering.

Fear-based bra-ing

The idea of throwing out one’s underwear seems to make people think that they won’t have any underwear to wear, ever again, in the entirety of their lifetime.

I am delighted to tell that that there is this new thing in America: it’s called “stores,” and anyone can use them. Find a “store” that sells “underwear,” go in and talk to the nice ladies that work there, have them give you a fitting, and then buy what they recommend.

Thank you for your support—sometimes

And don’t be mean to yourself when you buy this new underwear. If you don’t have itty-bitty bippies, then don’t buy the bras that have strings as straps.

Strings and straps are two different things. Even if some world-famous designer replaces the straps on his bras with strings (it’s always a male designer, have you noticed?), you know and I know that they aren’t straps, even if they are where the straps should be.

If you wear this monstrosity, those strings will gouge channels into your shoulders because they cannot support your breasts and and gratefully acquiesce the responsibility to your bones and sinew. This will cause you to hate—hate, I tell you—your bosom buddies, when in fact you should be hating the designer of the foundation wear who gave no thought whatsoever to what womanly women need.

Your lovely ladies deserve and need proper straps. Don’t dis them by hanging them off strings.

Peep-show primo

This might be the “women spend so much time taking care of others that they don’t take care of themselves” part of this.

I say, “take care of yourself, and you will be able to take care of others better, and with better coverage.”

What good is it helping your daughter unpack at college if you end up giving her new roomate’s dad a show of your wares because your bra rides up over half of your, gal, when putting the storage baskets on the top shelf of her dorm closet?

How happy will your little leaguer be when he slams one out of the park and and your exuberant cheering causes the accidental popping of some buttons off your shirt which results in showing the world that you aren’t actually fat in the middle, it’s only your boobs drooping because you are wearing a wire-free stretch bra that has stretched out? Seriously, you think your son is going to remember his homer? Nu-uh, he’s going to remember your, uh, un-moderated mammaries.

I see alot of women with good nails and improperly handled breasts. For the price of a manicure you can get a decent bra (on sale). Foundation-try will take you further than cosmetics-try.

So repeat after me: it’s okay to have boobs, it’s okay to have boobs, it’s okay to have boobs…

Now go out there and boob-ify yourself!

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