Like most humans who have breasts, the first three and a half seconds of being home are dedicated to expeditiously unhooking my bra and tossing it where it belongs: anywhere but on my body. There’s something so restricting about the 38-inch band and the double D cups. Suffocating, most would say.
It’s even painful at times-
the constraint of it all.
Memory travels me to the moments I’d admire the woman who refused to be bound by the wires and the straps and the padding. Covered by only the fabric of thin cotton t-shirts, their eye-catching graphics, and all the lengthy gazes.
First word: shock.
Second word: envy.
I thought her to be a daredevil; recklessly bouncing through the danger of judgment
all for the thrill of freedom.Â
Now I am that woman.
Uninhibited.
Shameless.
Bold.
And I like my truths how I like my titties
bare.