My Bra Doesn’t Fit
Not to be a feminist but…this is an essay of the rejection to brassieres
It didn’t occur to me that I’d be dreading the idea of wearing a bra now that I’m “required” to do so.
In my developmental years, I had been what is known as a late bloomer. That title has always brought a negative connotation to girls who are labeled differently than the girls who have checked every box of what society expects of one, ages 9–14. The different label I was assigned to was disheartening, especially when it came to snide remarks made by my peers in middle school, or even people I lived with. I grew up in a household where women walked the halls in their underwear and we didn’t say anything because “It’s only girls in the house.” However, this statement, as well, became something I was leery of. Of course, I had noticed my sister and mother protruding flesh and tissue from their chests, but it never crossed my mind how essential this attribute was until I reached the age of eleven.
Once I was in middle school, I couldn’t help but notice those around me wearing all kinds of bras. This being because it was somewhat of a trend to show off your straps by either tugging at your shirt sleeve or wearing a color that did not correspond with the top you’d be wearing. At first, I was amazed by the detail embroidered on the kinds of bras I saw — or indeed I was just being a closeted gay. Yet, then I started to realize:
“My God, I’m flat-chested!”
This of course wasn’t my first thought. Rather it was what was said to me once in a while that somehow stood out and caressed my thoughts into obsessing solely on that one statement made in the girls’ locker room. I would routinely change in the stalls of the restroom to avoid the shame brought upon me by external sources. Though these sources had died out (after convincing my mother to buy me a training bra), my internal being was still fixated on the idea that my breasts didn’t look like those of the other girls. My chest would not move nor bounce if I ran around the gym to do my required laps. The only logical thing to do at this time was to avoid the thoughts; and by doing so, I accepted I wasn’t as developed as many at that age.
I believe at this crucial time of my coming-of-age years I had taught myself to avoid rather than accept what is and what isn’t. I would accept the comments made to me about how my body appeared, yet avoid confronting them because I made myself believe those words expressed. I had made up a stigma about myself to confide with society, to be accepted. I labeled myself as flat-chested because that was what society had instilled in me. An outcast that was put into a separate box until further notice.
The “ until further notice” eventually arrived in full bloom of my bosom. When this occurred, I didn’t know what to expect; they just appeared…naturally. I had expected a big realization that others would notice as well. Of course, I had the tenderness and the aches, but nothing seemed to have changed in a broader sense. My mother, the only person to be somewhat enthusiastic, took half of a Saturday to take me bra shopping. This was intimidating because the entire section in the nearby Dillard’s was dedicated to only women, right next to the lingerie. I despised the idea of walking around searching for a brassiere with others to look on their way past this section. Though no one seemed to give much thought, I took it upon myself to avoid eye contact. Honestly avoid any contact with anyone, especially men. Yet, this couldn’t be entirely deflected because of the sheer fact that I needed to be measured for my exact size. The size that would correctly correspond to my body. The measuring, the woman’s cold hands, the minutes passing slowly trying to find the ideal bra for an A-cup was tedious; the result being worth it, for only a while.
I felt amazing, who wouldn’t when you finally get a bra and can feel somewhat included in the conversation of complaints of having breasts? Being an A-cup, I didn’t quite comprehend the reason for the complaints; I was just proud to be part of the box that society had built for women. A few years later and different sorts of brassieres later, I can truly be included in these conversations or so I’m told.
“Bras are so uncomfortable!”
“I can’t wait to take this off when I get home!”
These statements have been potent in my life since I became a proud C-cup. Though I would refer to such comments throughout my day, I still enjoyed the idea of being part of a society that appreciated women who had breasts. If someone didn’t show anything worth talking about by the time they hit high school, you were an outcast for the remainder of your life. I had experienced a certain validation in the girls’ locker room when asked where I got my bra from. There’s something extraordinary that occurs that my younger self would have dreamt of experiencing. For one reason, they wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t developed enough. Another reason is that my bra was worth talking about. The details traced around the cup that were nicely placed, along with the color, allowed me to stand out whenever I lifted my shirt over my head to change. I recall a dark blue I had with a lace finish. I was obsessed with the way it gave the illusion that mine sat perfectly on my chest. The natural contour line displayed, especially in the right light of a room, gave me significant confidence. I felt included with the other girls who also wore bras, but it wouldn’t be long before I would want to feel excluded.
I grew older and my breasts continued to… grow as well. During this time of my life, I started to have a consistent bra size and was pleased with the results. However, this was also a time when I sometimes wanted to go braless or have smaller breasts. Much of this stemmed from body dysmorphia and confusion about my sexuality; one of the common occurrences some might face before they come to terms with who they truly are. I would wear oversized shirts, though I didn’t necessarily need the oversized shirts, and sports bras. The sports bras idea eventually became tainted after finding out some when it came to the comfortable material.
I couldn’t win with myself anymore: I was happy, but now wanted a size reduction since they were a bother to me. I also noticed around this time that unwanted stares would lead me to discreetly fold my arms around my chest to hopefully cover and distract the perverted eyes. It baffled me at this moment in my life because not too long ago I wanted people to notice my chest size and now I wanted people to not notice me at all. I wanted to break free of the societal gaze and wanted to be seen more than what my body had to offer. This prompted me to go on a self-discovery journey to understand that there’s more to a woman than what’s on their physicality.
I had to admit to myself that I, too, was involved in the societal gaze. Though it may have not been obvious to me at the time, throughout my developmental years I was subconsciously comparing myself to the women I came across all the while seeking validation to show that I am a woman too. Coming to terms with this, I began to reflect deeply on why there’s so much pressure on women to be perceived in a way that’s acceptable to the world. In this case, you can’t have small breasts but you dare not have big ones either. You’re either deemed an object to be examined or spat at with demeaning words such as slut or whore. It’s hard to exercise a life of how you want people to see you while also wanting to just be. Letting yourself be the way you are and accepting this creates a stronger balance between yourself, which then puts you out of the societal box. It’s a way of achieving purpose, though you still — without knowledge — carry out generational traits that were given to women at such a young age.
As of now, I do wear my bras. However, this is where it differs: I don’t feel the need to always wear one. Yes, they’re uncomfortable, especially when your chest continues to grow still in your 20s. There are statements made by women who still despise the idea of wearing a bra, but rather wear one than go braless. In fact, about this continuous issue, whether that be because of the wrong bra size or because they are like me: the idea of wearing one is annoying. Regarding the wrong bra size, there can be several reasons that may contribute to this ongoing issue. Could be the way the bra is made, weight gain or loss, etc. As for people who’d rather go braless, this has been somewhat of a movement since the . This prompted manufacturers to reconsider the design of bras in order to adhere to standards that women wanted as they wore brassieres. However, as of lately with “Gen Z,” there’s an ideal standard that not wearing a bra is an emotional and psychological statement as to how you want to present yourself, and a sign of liberation from popular beliefs around the world. Rebellion or not, there’s a considerable amount of women who desire to be seen more than just the size of their breasts. The size of your chest shouldn’t amount to the respect one deserves in society.
I recall when I started to develop during my high school years, my friend and I were having a conversation about, you guessed it, bras. She had brought up how she would get a reduction to avoid the pain she had to experience with the size of her breasts. She further stated that I should be lucky that I haven’t had to experience another attribute of a woman to be fantasized about. At the time, I didn’t understand what she meant. Now, I completely understand the entirety of her side of the argument. My friend wasn’t just referring to the physical pain she endured with carrying so much weight on her chest that sometimes caused her back to ache or shortness of breath. She was also referring to the continuous cycle of girls being put into those societal boxes that I thought were essential to surviving a gaze-infested world.
References:
(2024). What is a Balconette Bra? Bendon Lingerie Australia.
Mulvey, K. (2023, July 26). Is it bad to wear a sports bra all day, every day? we asked the experts. Real Simple.
Gale, M. (2019, December 17). 90% of women complain about their bras, can this be the solution? . Forbes.
University, W. S. (2022, February 28). The truth about the “bra-burners.” Graduate School.
