Introduction

April 2021! Spring has truly sprung, and we’re seeing the light at the end of the tunnel from CoCo-19. I dare not speak its actual name. Hero-workers aside, many of us have been working from home, or home in some capacity, but with the distribution of the vaccines currently underway, and trust me, I am fully aware of the current disparity in access, we’re all still bravely pushing forward, and on to restarting the best parts of our lives.

Sure, there will be a CoCo-XX upon us at some point, but we’re not entertaining that now—one crazy at a time, please! We’ve experienced too much heaviness over the past year, and so now I will take this time to focus on the trivial, but real-world challenge that may deflate some of us getting back into the 2021 groove. I’m not talking about engaging in real deal socializing, returning to the office, or even resuming travel. I’m talking about the trauma of Getting Back into Wearing Bras with Underwire. 

I realize I’ve already lost some of you. Some are right now cursing my name, or saluting me with two middle fingers-I accept it-but we need to address this. I’m not purposely trying to leave out anyone, and you could certainly slide in clothing that requires buttons, aka pants/trousers, you know, fancy Pajama bottoms. But bras with underwire are truly a deviled, twisted, sinister beast unto themselves. Zero stars. Do not recommend.

I’ve been working part time from home for close to three-years now, and my ritual of womaning-up and pulling on an underwire bra when leaving the house was all set. But then CoCo-19 hit, and even I got complacent to the point of replacing my BFF Sade with the comfort and ease of my new tank-top-bra—let’s call her wire-free Wendy. Sorry Sade. Compound that with the texts I started receiving from friends sharing, or asking about recommendations for bras, but still without underwire. Their criteria were clear: look great, perform just as well as the real thing, and not cost $950. I love my friends, and hate to break hearts, but this kind of tomfoolery and utter delusion had to stop! I don’t care what brands are spewing their marketing witchcraft. Ones about revolutionary breakthrough, patent-pending technology, to give you all the lift and support to propel the girls up, up to the moon. ‘Tis all the lies, Sis! Well, if you’re over a B cup, that is. I don’t doubt their softness and comfort, but there will not now, not ever, never, be the same lift and separation offered by having two-U shaped, blade-like pieces of metal, digging into your flesh, while simultaneously slowing down your breathing. Am I lying?

So, what to do? Well, like everything we have choices. Find the best of the best wire-free bra and let you and the girls live in peace. Sure, an Altima and an Aston Martin will both get you to work, but don’t try to tell me the ride is the same. Stop. Or we take a deep breath, and implement this made-up-on-the-spot 5-Step process to ease ourselves back into the SOB, and avoid ‘sausage boob in tank top’ syndrome. By the way, I hate both choices, but let’s begin.

Step 1. Take out your underwire bras, the ones that hopefully still fit, and just look at them. Whisper loving aspirations to them, or straight up dog them out. Whoa there, Nelly! That’s enough for Step 1.

Step 2. Grab a soothing beverage of choice and a timer. In a locked room, put on the least offensive bra and set the timer for 60 seconds. I encourage tears. Contort your body in all directions and get familiar with the bullshit. Once the timer goes off, take off your bra and throw that bitch against the wall. 

Step 3. Repeat Step 2, this time set the timer for 30 minutes. I know, I know we jumped from 1 minute to half an hour. You got this! Now, unless you want to remain in the bathroom, put something on, and walk around the house. Breath in and out, fake laugh to expand your ribcage and become one with the feeling of the girls more lifted, and looking spectacular. #FashionHurts #IHateIreneB

Step 4. Time to get it to the streets! With your bra and clothes on, take a walk around the neighborhood, or a short drive maybe. Use your timer, but as long as it’s about an hour, that’s fine. Return home, take it off, fall to the floor - whatever. You did it, Queen!

Step 5. Almost there! Repeat step 4, but this time wear your death-harness in the comfort of your home. You must, however, resist the urge to yank it off, after your virtual meeting - and most defiantly during it. 

Has the feeling or memory come back? I didn’t say it was going to be pleasant. Did you make it to Step 5? Did you even bother? In all seriousness, no fashion item is worth any amount of pain. But here’s to Spring 2021, oh, and screw you to the moon, underwire!