Letting It All Hang Out: How I Made Peace With My Small Boobs
By Hallie Seegal
Last January, I stopped wearing a bra. I haven't put one back on since.
I don't remember buying my first bra. I just know that at some point around age 12 I started wearing one -- long before I "needed" to. There wasn't much to support, as friends in my 8th grade dance class informed me, joking that they could cut an apple on my chest. It wasn't funny then, but I suppose I can laugh about it now since I just bought my first cutting board and I don't see much of a resemblance.
Over the next 10 years, as I graduated from high school and college, I also graduated from a kitchen accessory to a solid A, while clasping a bra around my chest every day in between.
Then, seven months ago, I had a brassiere epiphany. After waiting just a little too long to do my laundry, I ran out of bras. I could have forced myself to head to the laundry room right then, or worn the less than fresh Cosabella number I'd worn the day before, but I realized the only visible difference for me between wearing and not wearing a bra was a bulky bra line. So I didn't wear one. Yes, I went braless.
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