Bra Dents
If you’re a woman with the massive weights of breasts on your shoulders and the bounciness of the fat pouches that sway and hang from your chest for years and years that drag you down with age and go from perky benefits of persuasion to floppy bags of repulsion dangling six inches lower than they use to be, you understand the sadness of seeing bra dents in the soft ridges of your shoulders only a year after you first start wearing them. You understand the frustration of having your body morphed by something that was invented by a man in order to encase the part of our bodies he found so desirable in a beautiful, perfectly rounded container so he could enjoy your beauty with modesty and you were better equipped to carry the vital life giving substance that is your breast milk to his needy, whining offspring. You feel as though you have no choice but to wear them because if you “free the titty” then you’re putting on a show for any man who walks by after a cold winter’s breeze or maybe you hate the excess of movement that makes it hard to go on a jog or just fucking walk down the street because our breasts are like college girls on spring break who’ve never experienced freedom before in their lives and they feel as though this this their chance to “go wild” but the wild is dark and full of dangerous people that will slut shame us or say we were just asking for it. I, too, have enjoy the feeling of a bra that perfectly shapes and caresses the outline of my breasts and makes me feel pretty as I look down in the mirror and see something that resembles the Victoria’s Secret Model’s body I so wish I could inhabit as she walks down the runway to show off the newest line of lingerie and she feels like the sexiest woman in the world as the cameras flash like shooting stars. But then I take off my bra and stare back into the mirror once again and I’m reminded just how heavy the weight of carrying breasts are and that I’ll never be able to correct the deformity that I’m left with even if I chose to remove them from my body because in the end it’ll still just be me and my bra dents.
