Wednesday, September 9


I realized how much time I'd been spending at home when I put on a bra recently and the dogs' ears perked and tails started wagging like they normally do when I put on tennis shoes and grab their leashes. We're going out, they thought!

Not a fan of backaches and compromised breathing, I prefer to go braless at home. I've even been known to answer the door for deliveries or visiting neighbors at liberty. Honestly, it's probably mostly laziness--these days, I just can't be bothered. But I like to pretend it's my late-blooming inner feminist refusing to imprison my bust.
Thankfully Left Hand Man is supportive of my stance...or, at least he seems minimally interested. It is actually in his interest to support my liberation since recently it's been difficult to find bras to suit which I can also attach to my body by myself, and I am now dependent on his assistance to strap things down (up?).

I had the novel experience recently of wondering, when he went out of town, how I was going to dress myself for out-of-house business. Thankfully the kitchen was lately stocked and I've been known to throw on a sweatshirt and call it good for a late night run to Target. What only you know, can't hurt anyone else?

I vaguely remember my last bra shopping adventure, many many moons ago. Left-Hand Man was there and, bless his soul, he went right into the dressing room with me. I would dare claim that no woman (who wears above a B cup) enjoys shopping for bras, but I have a lengthy list of specifications and special needs in this department. My back is uneven (read more about that here), my shoulders short or sloping, my booties (as The Small Queen calls them) asymmetrical by approximately two cup sizes, not to mention I only have ONE ARM! I guess you probably know that by now.

I've been asked how a one-armed girl puts on a bra, but if asked today, I'd have to say "with a husband." Left Hand Man stood dutifully by me as I wrangled myself into various possibilities, unfastening, fastening, and rehanging as needed. He was a real trooper. 

As I write now, I am braless, as you may have guessed. This new age of telecommuting and online business has opened up a whole new world of dressing down, or hardly dressing at all. I'd like to think I am writing to breast-freed women across the globe. 

Cheers, to bust-freedom!