To wear a bra or not to wear a bra…that’s not even the question

It’s not even a question I ask myself when I get dressed in the morning. It hasn’t been for YEARS. The question is, how is it anyone else’s business if I do or not? I’ve found it to be an

issue for many people, and many have their opinions on the topic. Yet, I don’t feel the need to tell others how I think they should dress, because honestly, I SHOULDN’T have an opinion on

that topic. It’s none of my business what you choose to wear — or not wear. Granted, there are laws that we all must work within, but there are many, many more patriarchal ‘rules’ as to how

women, in particular, are ‘permitted’ to dress. Having survived Catholic school, I was well indoctrinated in those rules. No tank tops (for girls), no miniskirts or skirts that didn’t reach

the top of your knees, and no shorts shorter than where the end of your fingers reached on your thigh (one of my daughters thought she could get around this one by wearing fishnet stockings

under her shorts — no dice!) One of my nieces got into an argument with a priest about her wedding gown. He wouldn’t marry her if she didn’t get a less revealing dress. So she didn’t marry

Catholic. Even in public, an older woman glared me down in a grocery store parking lot, looking me up and down like I was a leper. In my defence, it was 35 degrees Celsius, so I wasn’t

wearing my usual layers. I just smiled at her and continued on. In my own home is where I receive the most grief. Not that my husband minds for his own sake, but he insists that I make my

sons-in-law uncomfortable. Not that they tell him that, and I’ve asked my daughters if this was true, they deny it. Then he moves it out of the house and claims I make ALL heterosexual men

uncomfortable because my nipples make an appearance on occasion (a phrase often used around here is, “It’s a little nipply out today”). Oh, and that men are constantly watching me. I don’t

see it. None have been rude enough to comment, and I’ve only once caught a (much younger) man checking out my boobs at the gym. Another niece of mine used to give me grief about not wearing

a bra. She was another Catholic school survivor. But she has now joined my mission and has let those puppies loose! To be honest, my reasons for going braless aren’t political in any way.

I’m not trying to make a statement, get attention, or get my kicks. All the sores and welts and discomfort got to me…