Body of Love

I hate bras. They’re just so constricting. I’ve never been a fan of them. Before kids, I could almost always get away without wearing one at all. I went completely commando on my wedding day. It was pretty liberating, although, I admit a bit nerve wracking when it was time for the garter to be removed.

But in the more than 5 years since our first was born, I’ve spent the majority of the time in nursing bras. They aren’t quite as constrictive as regular bras, but they don’t do anything for your figure either. You sort of wind up with a uniboob thing going on, which is pretty much anything but attractive. Although when you’re nursing for two years or more like I did, worrying about how your rack looks is pretty low on the priority list.

But now that I’m no longer a nursing mother, and I’m working on re-gaining a body in which I feel beautiful, it’s moving up the priority list. Which brings me back to my original sentiment, I hate bras. I’m a good cup and half bigger in size than I was pre-baby, and most women would be stoked at that development. I’m pretty sure that I was the only woman I’ve ever known who loved having small breasts. Because it meant that bras were optional. And that was a perk I most certainly took advantage of.

Like so much about my body that is radically different now versus pre-baby, a bra is not only needed, but mandatory. As the baby, quitting smoking the first time and unhappiness weight continues to come off, I’m forced to take a different look at my body. Forced to give it a pat on the back for a job well done for growing, birthing, feeding and raising two gorgeous and healthy children. And I’m also learning that the judicious use of foundation garments can bring me closer to the picture I’d like to present to the outside world. I’m learning how to look at my body in a whole new light. One that is radiant with strength and whole new kind of sex appeal. One in which I’m searching for the perfect bra.