Gypsy Rose Lee, three-quarter length portrait, seated at typewriter, facing right / World Telegram & Sun photo by Fred Palumbo. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I have everything I had 20 years ago, its just all 6 inches lower ~Gypsy Rose Lee
Ever since I read the post on bras at Kay’s Musings this morning, I’ve had an urge to pull mine off and toss it in the trash. The only reason I bother to wear a bra is because 1/ habit and 2/ I saw a woman at a retirement home we visited recently who had breasts around her waist. I’m not ready to go there yet.
Wearing this stupid undergarment should help me ward off that indignity for a few more years.
When I was 12 and began developing breasts, I thought they were weird. Later, when I was a hormone driven young adult, I wanted big breasts like Marilyn Monroe. Now days I envy women with figures like boys.
Given the pain of annual mammograms, I think Angelina Jolie had the right idea. Take ’em off. No, I am not about to do anything so radical, but if they fall off of their own accord, I won’t weep.
I have friends who have suffered with breast cancer and lost a breast, and while I can feel sad for them and their awful medical experience which involves the removal of muscle and other non breast tissue, as well as the fear of cancer, I have a hard time believing it is so bad to lose a breast or two. Or wouldn’t be if others didn’t make such an issue of it.
Years ago, Margaret Atwood wrote a feminist novel in which she described a woman whose breasts were so large she could not get off her back. Apparently, some men (in this book?)wanted women like that. I didn’t read the book, I read a review, so it might have been another author, but it sounded horrible.
My friend K had her very large breasts downsized. Before her operation, she showed me the groves in her shoulders where her large endowment had dragged her down for years and pressed the bones holding her up into deformed structures not very unlike those canyons carved by eons of the passage of water.
K had the operation as soon as she discovered her philandering husband had found other breasts to manipulate elsewhere.
After they split, he tried to make amends. K laughed at him one Christmas when he gave her a sweater that would have fit her when she was 12. She said it was the thought that counted. Yeah Right!
I don’t have much more to say on this topic, not anything I can repeat here, except the following thought from dear Aunt Marge: LSMFT – Loose straps mean flopping T****