It may be time to let the girls out of boob prison.
With Sam EscobaR, Tonilyn HornunG, & CQt Rose. Listen to the Podcast at How To Sex.
With their pokey underwire, thick straps and sweat-trapping cups, bras are not always the most comfortable thing in the world. Sure, getting a bra that properly fits can do wonders for your boobs, but there's nothing quite like going without one.
While there are certainly some folks who simply can't go bra-free, whether it's due to comfort or size, the ones who can; seem to universally agree that it is supremely amazing — whether you do it in public or just in the comfort of your own home. As someone with large breasts who has recently started embracing the wonders of going braless, I am totally obsessed. Why? Let me count the ways.
1. Your boob sweat can just ... evaporate.
Look, one of the most inconvenient things about summer (and having big boobs in general) is the pool of under-boob sweat that appears with the slightest hint of heat. When you skip the bra, you have a chance to air it all out rather than pressing that gross moisture against your skin all day. It even creates health risks of skin infections and rashes.
2. Your natural chest shape emerges.
For years, I thought that extremely round, padded and shaped look was the best one for my body. Now that I've started skipping a bra all together, I actually get to see the shape of my breasts, about which I've been previously self-conscious. It's fine if you like a bra-shaped appearance for your boobs, but it never hurts to try something new.
3. You realize how unique all boobs are.
Since the bra-free look has returned to popularity, more folks with differently shaped breasts have been rocking it. Droopy, small, large, asymmetrical, perky — all sorts, not just the one type fashion, movies and TV would have us believe. And the cool thing about that is that it's a reminder of how different chests are from one person to the next.
4. You get that "just took off my bra" feeling all. day. long.
You know how wonderful it feels to remove your bra the moment you get home? Imagine experiencing that delight for the entire day.
5. You save money on bras.
Fact: Bras are expensive. Another fact: Replacing them is annoying. If you wind up only wearing one for half of the week, you go through 'em half as fast — and spend half as much.
6. Nipples are highly underrated accessories.
The 1970s was a glamorous decade filled with glitz, gold and visible nipples. Take a page from the disco era and allow your nipples to add a little extra fun to your look. After all, men wear theirs out literally the entire summer. What's the big deal about letting ours simply rest naturally under the fabric of a shirt?
7. You look great in a crop top.
If you've ever felt so inclined to try the continuously popular crop top (hey — it's for any age, any body type!), I've got great news for you: They look great sans bra.
8. At the end of the day, you don't have all those pressure lines.
Even the best bras can leave some uncomfortable marks on your skin — why not just skip 'em all together?
9. It feels just a little extra adventurous.
I'll be honest: Going without a bra sometimes translates to risking a "wardrobe malfunction," depending on what you wear it with. But hey, you only live once. You might as well feel extra alive every once in a while — and that breeze-plus-boobs combo will definitely help.
10. Going without a bra doesn't make your boobs "sag."
First of all, some breasts are naturally droopy. That's a fact, and it's fine. You don't need to be afraid of it! Second, there's this oft-repeated old wives' tale that if you don't wear a bra, your breasts will get lower and lower, but a 15-year French study actually concluded the opposite. In fact, the study found that women who went without bras developed more muscle tissue, allowing their bodies to support their breasts naturally. Thanks, science!
11. You remember that if something makes you uncomfortable, sometimes it's best to just skip it.
Obviously (and unfortunately) there are situations where people are going to judge you for what you wear. However, if you feel your most confident heading out to dinner or to the park without a bra, let yourself just go for it. And don't listen to anyone who says your breasts aren't the right shape, size or type to go bra-free.
12. Once you adjust to how it feels sans bra, it can feel seriously powerful.
Yes, really. Just trust me.
Why I Stopped Wearing a Bra
My mom's refusal to wear one used to embarrass me. Now I get it.
It used to embarrass me — my mom's refusal to wear a bra. I'm not sure why, really. It's not like she jogged her way through life forcing everyone to stare at her heaving chest, but as a teenager, I found her refusal mortifying. I'm sure a therapist would delve deeper into the reasons why this may have bothered me, saying something along the lines of, "Seeing your mother in any way womanly or sexualized made her seem like more of a real person than a mother," but to my basic teenage brain, it was simpler. Women wore bras. That's just what women did, and my mom was a woman, so she should wear her bra. But she did not. Now, as an adult, I think my mom might have been on to something.
There was a time I enjoyed buying frilly, lacy bras, and such. Walking into Victoria's Secret was a quiet thrill for this shy, little Catholic schoolgirl. I'm sure my husband would appreciate it if that thrill still existed in my world, but if I'm being honest, the last time I bought a bra was over three years ago. No, I have not decided to burn all my bras for some sort of political statement or because it was super cold this last winter. I haven't purchased a bra for a very good reason.
I wore a bra for two years straight.
The pregnancy books don't really tell a nervous mom-to-be all there is to know about Mom Boobs. Sure, the books go into fantastic detail about all sorts of other pregnancy issues, using scary words like "discharge" and phrases like "growing areolas." But I found that the majority of these helpful tomes forgot to mention that a pregnant lady's breasts can be so tender that putting on a bra, and then strapping them down with an Ace bandage, is the only way to walk up and down a flight of stairs comfortably. The bra (with the Ace bandage) became my best friend during my pregnancy.
I figured after I had the baby, my life and my boobs would achieve some sort of normalcy. I thought I'd be home free, but then I started nursing my baby. Again, I needed a bra to support my milkshakes — but this time it was a nursing bra. These contraptions are slightly more comfortable than a real bra but unlike a normal bra, they open in the front for a little quick air conditioning on a hot summer day. Still, though, trying to sleep without "The Girls" contained was as uncomfortable as sleeping on two actual cartons of milk. So I wore a bra during my pregnancy and while breastfeeding — day and night for two years. (I did take it off to shower.)
Now I require freedom!
At most, a passerby might see me in a sports bra just to keep "The Girls" from roaming all over the place, but I can't stand wearing a real bra anymore. They feel tight and constrictive. I have earned the right to feel my "Girls" flop against my stomach as I sit, but more important, I've discovered my mother's secret: Bras are uncomfortable.
Perhaps one day I will come around and prefer a little lace and wire help hike up my puppies, versus the power of gravity, but for now, I like my freedom. And maybe if I actually used the Victoria's Secret gift card my husband bought for me last Valentine's Day, I might discover bras have evolved over the last several years to where it feels like a person is wearing nothing. But I have a better idea. Why not actually wear nothing?
Oh god! 10 years from now, what will my teen daughter say about my free puppies?
My back pain Is Gone!
My horny hubby’s idea helped me deal with upper back pain.
By CQt Rose
Not wearing a bra... braless... letting the puppies (or kittens, in my case) play freely. Yes, when I went to the grocery store this morning, I didn't bother strapping the girls into anything that would restrict their natural movement. Shopping at the mall? Nope. Church last Sunday? Sorry, that was me swaying completely to the music. (Oh, get over it. Do you really think Mary, mother of Jesus, wore a bra? I rest my case.) Shirts versus skins amateur basketball tournament? Dang, I was benched before that decision had to be made.
Looking back, I can see how naive and silly I was fifteen years ago. I can also remember the real reason I rarely confine my chest into some modern day instrument of Puritanism.
It was the turn of the century (the year 2000, for the calendar deficient). Between the stress of work, my husband launching his own business, and a move from my beloved home to a big city, everything was crashing down on me. The end result was headaches, upper back pain, and a miserable me.
I suffered through it for almost six months before that fateful day my husband came to me with a bewildering question: would I be willing to try going without a bra for a month to see if it helped my maladies.
Fifteen years ago, prior to that moment, before six months of increasingly excruciating pain, I wouldn't be caught dead without a bra. I even slept in a sports bra.
My hubby is a curious sort and loves research. He had been looking for anything we hadn't tried to help my upper thoracic(back)/lower cervical(neck) spasms, which were the likely source of my recurrent head aches. Low-and-behold, an unpublished work by a couple of orthopedic surgeons in England reported an unusual finding.
Women scheduled for surgery due to neck and upper back pain, when asked to go without the 'benefit' of a bra during pre-surgical preparations, often noted reduced symptoms, even before their actual surgery.
Discussing things, the dynamic-doctor-duo started to consider the bio-mechanics of the brassiere.
They noted that those nasty things were distributing weight from the front of the chest, up over the shoulders, crossing directly over the thoracic-cervical spinal transition zone and associated parts: muscles, joints, spine. Everything was potentially affected, even resting posture. That shoulder-to-shoulder boulder holder was intentionally moving structural stress onto the upper back and lower neck. It couldn't really be that simple, could it?
Obviously, the bra was made by a group of men to help women, right? Nope. The brassiere was made to keep the God-fearing menfolk focused on their jobs and proper etiquette. Why bother retraining a man when you could more easily torture a non-voting woman. Rapidly the freedom of movement was replaced by the proper brassiere, corset, and other torment devices. All to keep evil women from flaunting their apple-eating harlot bodies, and thus deliberately forcing men to have improper thoughts. Heaven knows, no righteous guy would ever have an improper thought if not directly lured by a woman... at least not more than six a minute. (Yes, I know, that study was flawed, but it's still very funny.)
With the passing of time, this original reason for the invention of the bra has been lost. Most people incorrectly think it was made to help women by supporting the breast and to prevent sagging. Not really truth in advertising is it? Yet look what gender is running the ad campaign to promote another piece of lingerie to be added to a woman's "essential" wardrobe.
Knowing it's not to support the breast tissue, why not consider asking women, while on the waiting list for surgery, to 'go natural' for a month. I'm sure our good doctors spun it as "in preparation for surgery" instead of "because we're beady-eyed sex fiends that want to see bouncing boobies everywhere!" (Cue up "Bounce Your Boobies" by Rusty Warren.)
For their study, they evaluated pain scores, mobility, headache frequency, and any other data point they could find (I'm sure the doctors' wives nixed the nipple diameter and 'cup-ability' of the-breast-in-hand aspects of the study, but being boys first, scientists second, I bet it was on their original study outline).
Interesting trial for the patient, not so good for surgical income because a significant portion of the women who went braless improved enough not to need surgery. Back pain? Gone. Neck pain? Nada. Headaches? "Dammit, Jim, bring that one back or I'm gonna have to start putting out!"
Returning to my own painful situation, facing my husband's puppy-dog eyes begging me to try, I bit the bullet. I bit my lip. I did a hundred hail Mary's that first day, asking forgiveness for my sin. I left the bra off.
The following morning, I got reminded not to put it on.
"But it's not working," I whine to my scientist.
"It's been eleven hours," he says.
"Yes! And it's not working!" I emphasize, since he seems to want to prove my point.
"How long have you been in pain?"
"Four months."
"Half a year, sorry. Nice try. Next contestant," Doctor Smarty-Pants says.
"So? It's not working," I grumble.
"So I get half a day to fix a problem spawning, growing, consuming you for six months? The study said four to six weeks."
"But people will see!"
"You mean under your T-shirt, button-up, sweat shirt, and... please! A scarf? It's spring, at least lose the scarf."
I reluctantly put down the bra, leaving all the other clothes on, thankful it was my day off. No freaking way I was going to work without a bra.
Little did I know just how adamant my belligerent husband could be in some instances.
The next day is much easier. Much fucking easier because, "Where the hell are all my bras?" I snarl.
He swallows with a deer-in-headlight look. Not a good sign before I've had my breakfast. He bolts for the door.
"Stop! Man-up!" I yell at his retreating back.
He turns back toward me when at a safe distance, "That's cowboy up, to you, sweetie! Free Willie!" and he pumps his fist in the air before hastening to finish his escape.
By the end of the second week, I'm woman enough to admit, I was having fewer headaches. My neck still ached like a son-of-a, but I swear, Aspirin and I were no longer having an intimate relationship. Of course, neither were my husband and I, but that's not necessarily out of the ordinary.
Finishing the third week, he had grown a set and returned to our bed, sleeping uneasily as I occasionally sang the 'Bobbit' song. I wasn't going to mention my neck pain was reduced by more than half. Let him sweat a little more.
End of the first month? I wanted my brassieres back, but only for special occasions. Like when I go out in public. When I get up in the morning. When I go to bed at night. You wouldn't take Linus' security blanket away, would you? Unfortunately, my husband would... the bastard.
Start of week five. I had to start being honest with him, because he'd hidden a small fortune in lingerie. My neck and upper back were almost completely pain free. I hadn't had a headache for almost ten days. My boobs didn't hurt. They weren't even hitting my knees... yet.
Ladies? Here's a special hint: don't marry a scientist. Not only will they try to support everything with fact, plus at least two references, but everything becomes a classic study where a single result means nothing.
"Ok, you tried our little test. You can have them all back," he smiles, returning the stack of my clothing. He earns himself a blow job. (Oh, as if you've never been so happy to get your way you don't go a little crazy.)
Little did I know, his devious man-mind was still at work. Two weeks later, I make the mistake of dumping out three aspirin onto my plate at breakfast.
"Headache, huh?"
"No shit, Sherlock, who gave you the first clue?" I glare at him, daring him to mention labeled dose.
"You want me to rub your shoulders?"
Never trust a guy volunteering to give you a back rub. He wants something. Or, in my case, he's about to prove something I don't want to really hear.
"Sure," I say, somewhat dejectedly into my toast and pills.
His hands gently start at my shoulders, then in toward my lower neck...
"Holy mother of... stop! Ow! Stop!"
"Oh, sorry. Neck pain?"
"Yes, Einstein, and shoulder tenseness, and..."
Flick. Where the fuck do guys learn to do that? I didn't even have time to flinch, let alone stop to realize what he was doing reaching behind my back again. My girls drop two inches.
"Fucker."
"Thank you. We're starting braless study, phase three now. I trust you can have your bras and use them responsibly? Only in dire emergency? Like you've got an audience with the Pope?"
"Fucker." Only this time, it's said in that tone that means I've given up. Dammit, the stupid Y chromosome-holding genetic freak now held all the cards. {Funny, I never realized how much I could swear when in pain. The good news is that scientific studies show cursing increases your pain tolerance - cuss away.}
"Thank you. You want help taking it the rest of the way off?"
Stupid-ass puppy-dog eyes. God I love him. No matter how hard he makes it.
It only takes three weeks this time. Completely pain free. Last aspirin almost the day after our showdown. I wore a bra less than seven hours over that period of time, and only because it was summer now, and it's too hot to keep wearing a sweatshirt every time I go out.
Then a not-so-funny thing happens. We're out and I've worn just a T-shirt and a huge baggy sweatshirt with jeans. It's hot. I was going to pass out.
"Take off your sweatshirt, silly!"
"I don't have on a bra, dipstick!"
"Sorry, I forgot. Everyone looks at you. You're the center of the universe."
"Stop being an ass, I'm dying of heat."
"You think anyone really gives a flying flip about what you are or aren't wearing? I'll help you watch for the first leery-eyed bastard that looks your way. You get 'that' look, we're out of here. If you don't get that look, you accept it: unfortunately, you're just not that important... just like me. People are in their own worlds and they never see the world around them. Take your freedom and live it."
Stupid revolutionary scientists.
I hate to admit it, but I didn't burst into flames that day not wearing one out in public. Except for the rare occasion, it didn't seem like anyone ever noticed. In fact, until much more recently when I started wearing the thinner, lace-and-sheer tops as I grew more confident and comfortable with my body, did I ever notice anyone taking a second look at me.
It's amazing, not only am I still married to the scientist, but my girls get to roam free everywhere we go. Though I still enjoy a good massage today, it's not needed for neck and upper back pain.
If you or someone you love has upper back pain, neck discomfort, shoulder tenseness, or headaches, it's an easy experiment to try on your own (at least if you're female or a bra-wearing guy). There's no serious significant side-effects and you might be surprised at the amount of mental freedom you feel.
So in answer to, "Uh, excuse me miss, but you have a very nice, uh, natural movement to you when you walk. You aren't, uh, you're not..."
"You bet, buck-o. I'm not wearing a bra! And I'm loving it!"
Another woman concurred.
Great therapy idea.
There are various reasons why some women never go braless but a big reason is insecurity about their shape, thinking their breasts are too small or too big or especially if they think they are too saggy.
A group of neighborhood wives that discovered the benefits of going bra-free, in conjunction with also discovering that their supposed "imperfections" are actually attributes. It came about at a neighborhood walking group, one June evening.
One of the wives revealed that her bras cause her pain and that she goes braless at home to get relief, but is too self-conscious to do it away from home. Another confesses that her doctor told her to avoid bras for the same reason and the three other wives all admit that they hate their bras but feel compelled to wear them, even around their neighborhood friends.
The gals dared each other to leave their bras home at a future walk. The next evening at that next walking group, the wives were talking about their insecurities about their breast shape/size. to dress "conspicuously braless". The ladies eventually decide that during the next night’s walk, as therapy, they will be braless, & forced to learn that their size/shape is OK.
At that next night’s walking group, the women finally were all braless, and loved it. Within a couple weeks, they thought nothing of it, and when the older Anderson couple in the neighborhood started walking with them, the ladies were not bothered at all about Mr. Anderson.
By August, the neighborhood summer barbecues were also mostly braless, & the wives often showed up wearing either tube-tops, bikini tops, or went bra-less under tank-tops, in the 90 degree heat.