In sixth grade, my stepmother informed me that the letters on my tshirt were no longer "sitting flat". I guess it was a not-so-subtle way of telling me I needed a bra. I remember this shirt exactly, as it was "Bugle Boy" brand and had the name written in big block letters across the chest (how's that for irony?).
I was horrified. Embarrassed, because she made this announcement in front of my father and sister, and also frustrated that she was correct in this. Oh, the beauty of becoming a woman.
Despite her more than occasional insistence that she was a better parent to me than at least two of my others, my stepmother did not buy me my first bra. And thank God for that, since she was the type of person who would routinely stuff her own double-D assets into Victoria's Secret lace-covered "demi" push up bras.
No, my first brassieres were bought for me by my own mother, and I don't even know where we got them. Likely JCPenney or Walmart, and I can guarantee I did not try them on first or have a formal fitting (years later my mom would tell me a story about a little old woman with a foreign accent who ran the lingerie shop in her hometown of Milford, CT and unceremoniously announced to my aunt that "one is bigger than zee other!". Had that happened to me at age 11 I simply would have died on the spot). Anyway, we arrived home with the bras, both sport-style, since they would be the "most comfortable" and have the best support. I went upstairs to try them on.
"Are you kidding me?! This is the most uncomfortable thing I have ever worn! I can't believe that all women put up with this all day every day." I was, for lack of a better word, pissed. What an unfair world this was, where simply because I was born a female, I had to go through the rest of my life wearing what was basically a boob-girdle. Oh, the humanity. I stomped around and spent the rest of the evening in my room in near-tears over my fate. What if someone saw a strap? All my friends (male) were going to just die with laughter if they knew I was wearing a bra.
Two years before this, my friend Christian Morgan and I had taunted my sister's best friend, Sarah, on a school bus when we noticed an extra strap sticking out from her shirt collar. "Sarah's wearing an over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder!" we screamed. I still regret this behavior. If I had only known the pain and restriction that Sarah was already suffering, perhaps we would have been more understanding.
As I am sure you've guessed, I got over the anguish of my initial discovery of women's undergarments. In fact, I may have even purchased a bra that wasn't a full elastic sport style by the time I turned 16 (when all my girl friends had been wearing "real bras" for years). The realization that I had to "hold the girls up" every day for the rest of my life was a tough one, though. It's a really miserable moment for a tomboy to realize that she's going to be a woman (and don't get me started on what happened a year later. Let's just say that when nearly all of your information about emerging womanhood comes from a Judy Blume book, things get a little confusing. "Wait a second, this isn't a one-time thing? This is going to happen every month for the rest of my life?!")
I still wear a sports bra every day of the work week. Amazing how they don't feel so uncomfortable anymore... But you can keep the lace and the push ups.
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