My current collection of medieval underwire bra's, new and old, is absolutely maddening!
Underwire. It’s a horribly cruel creation and frankly I’ve had my fill.
Maybe I should join a support group… (No pun intended) Hi. My name’s Gator and I LOATHE underwire. It seriously makes me CRAZY! So crazy that I have even revised one of my most favorite songs by Huey Lewis And The News…
I want a new bra!
One that won’t make me sick
One that won’t make me crash my car,
Or stab my boobs like an ice pick
I want a new bra!
One that won’t hurt my chest
One that won’t make my boobs all red
And leaves me feeling my best!
An Example of Underwire Induced Madness:
A few weeks ago I came home from a great day at the office in a wonderful mood. Because I could NOT in good conscious wear my comfy uniboob contraption with a tight fitted blouse, I had to switch to my brand new torture device, the two cup super deluxe, costs you at least fifty bucks, underwire included model. Immediately after changing my mood took a nose dive.
A few weeks ago I came home from a great day at the office in a wonderful mood. Because I could NOT in good conscious wear my comfy uniboob contraption with a tight fitted blouse, I had to switch to my brand new torture device, the two cup super deluxe, costs you at least fifty bucks, underwire included model. Immediately after changing my mood took a nose dive.
Before the underwire application I had found my dearest, if not slightly inebrriated JS charming while he “made it rain” one dollar bills. Even his dancing (scary pelvic thrusting) in my general pre-dinner preparedness direction had been tolerable. After changing into underwire the same shenanigans had me threatening to whack him with my hair dryer.
A few minutes later, that same bra may or may not have caused a panic attack (hissy fit) in the car that left me with no other option but to remove the offensive device and replace it with a cotton sports bra, all at the same time as hypothetically operating a moving motor vehicle with or without the help of my slightly inebriated co-conspirator holding the wheel. Thankfully that will not be recorded in any APD history books because it may or may not have ever happened and if it did it would have been a very dark night on a lonely highway moving at a slow rate of speed.
Moral of the story:
Comfort = Calm, Happy Gator
Discomfort = Cranky, Potentially Homicidal Gator
Needless to say, I have now started a quest to find a brassiere that has a clear delineation between both breasts yet contains no underwire. Comfort, obviously is a must! I know they’re out there. In the meantime, I will wear my uniboob proudly. You should try it. Feels just like wearing your PJ’s to the office.
Parting Shot:
Aint nobody as cute as me I'm just so fresh so clean
(So fresh and so clean clean)
