Going Braless: A Query

It’s been a long time since we’ve talked about my underwear on this blog, so it seems like it must be about time. Actually, this post is only sort of about my underwear, it’s mostly about my boobs. But probably not in the exciting way you’re picturing. (No, there will not be pictures.)

I think I’ve mentioned before (and if I haven’t, most of you know anyway) that I didn’t have boobs to speak of until I hit my late 20s. I went through most of my life as a perky little B-cup. (Before you ask, no, I was not one of that majority of women wearing the wrong bra size. I was not a busty F-cup deluded into thinking she was a B-cup.) Now, if you knew me then, you might not have realized how small my boobs were because I’ve long had an affection for padded bras—part of my attempt to make myself look like I had a waistline. Then suddenly, and perhaps not coincidentally, around the time I started aerial work I went from a 34B to a 36E/36DD in about six months without gaining any significant amount of weight elsewhere. I am the story that gives all other members of the IBTC (that’s Itty Bitty Titty Committee for the uninitiated) hope.

The point here is that I’m still not quite used to these things on my chest. So I have an honest question for my fellow busty girls—isn’t it really uncomfortable to go without a bra?

Okay, obviously running or other vigorous physical activity is uncomfortable without support, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about just sitting around.

I’ve noticed several of my female friends when they are free of male company and want to get comfortable take off their bras. I used to be one of those girls. Now I can’t stand that! I’ve started seeking out pajamas with some semblance of a shelf bra just to avoid it. When I take off my bra my now not-so-perky boobs hang down onto my ribcage. And there’s this weird skin-on-skin contact thing that happens—I wouldn’t call it chaffing exactly, but it’s uncomfortable. I would rather wear a bra, even if it’s cutting into my shoulders and poking me in the ribs.

Am I the only one who has this problem? Is it because I carry a lot of my weight around my middle? Or is it just because I’m not used to these things?

Guide me oh experienced busty ladies. What am I missing here?

3 Responses to “Going Braless: A Query”

  1. Teapot says:

    No, you’re totally right, bras are a must for busty ladies. I only take mine off when I’m asleep and gravity isn’t being such a little bitch. I find it MUCH more comfortable to wear a bra than not, period. And I have a phobia of one day looking looking in my mirror and seeing the chest of one of those nubile native ladies that National Geographic used to feature in the ’80s, so that also keeps me pretty vigilant. This is also why I refuse to run: fear of sagging. (Also running is the worst, but mostly fear of sagging.)

    One of the best investments I ever made was to spend real money on my bras (more than I spend on any other clothing). So they fit right, they’re comfortable to wear all day every day, and – added bonus – expensive undies are often really cute.

  2. Cammy says:

    From a formerly deluded busty girl, you are not alone. It is uncomfy to go with out the bra. While I am generally eager to shuck my bra at the end of the day, that move is really a trade off, not a trade up in the comfort scale.

    My slumpy tv watching habits mean the underwire goes on the offensive and tries to impale me, and I have a rotten tendency to have incredibly painful skin breakouts if I am wearing a bra for too long–oh, and there are the times when I gain weight and the bra is literally cutting into me. But the freedom comes at a cost. The sag is irritating, and then there is the dreaded under-boob sweat which I hate beyond words (it is usually a tight race between this and the skin break out as to whether or not the bra goes on). I think that goes toward the not-quite-chafing you mentioned. It is equally no fun being a side-sleeper when you get the one sagging over onto the other. And then there is just the part where they are free to get in the way while uncaged–I lean over on the sofa a certain way and find myself having to forcibly re-locate my errant boob.

  3. Mary says:

    Decidedly uncomfy to do for more than an hour or so and maybe not even that long. The sweat and uncontrolled movement are the killers for me.

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