It seems I can't breathe.

That's ok, it seems that the cause is a giant boa constrictor wrapped around my chest. And by 'boa constrictor' I mean brassiere, the world's worst torture device besides the 'tap the forehead with a spoon' employed by older brothers everywhere.

Don't get me wrong. I'm done complaining about the *need* for a bra because it's really just one of those things that can't be helped. I'm not Twiggy, nor do I ever want to be her. (Anymore.) I'm slightly...rounder on top, and it's just my fate in life to help support the undergarment industry with my hard-earned dollars. My bone of contention is not about the need for the garment, it's the damn garment itself. If I have to pay that much for so little, it better be both beautiful and functional. Why is that so hard for the industry to grasp? (No pun intended) If I'm shelling out that kind of money, it should be embroidered in gold thread and be entirely silk. It's like all the pretty bras are for the people who don't actually need 'em (and you know who you are, and that I love you anyway) but the rest of us? HAVE GRANNY BRAS. No matter what they tell us, there's a reason only old people wear those bras. It ain't because of the style (well, actually, IT IS), it's because they are the most unflattering and uncomfortable pieces of support a woman can wear. This is including those new-age girdles that squeeze your rolls up, down, and out to form even more unfortunate lumps in your sillouette while making sure you can neither sit down nor breathe comfortably, or those control-top hose that function much like a girdle yet have the added bonus of constricting your legs into sausages. While the finished look may have your legs sleek and sexy, what you can't see under the skirt actually *might* hurt you and it definately causes me the kind of pain that requires an IV of black martinis. The human body isn't meant for this kind of torture, people. Don't even get me started on stilettos and hooker shoes/boots.

So, the bra. A woman might have invented it, but a man took the idea, assembly-lined it, and gave it an advertising campaign. Women have to look at themselves in their bras more than their men do. It's a fact of life. Many women, myself included, have bras that *no other person* has ever seen on their body. So why can't we revolt and get some nice looking bras? Bras that might make us happy and even fit correctly.

Oh, that's right, the Victoria's Secret myth. I don't know how they did it, but VS is considered the flagship of bras. The ironic part: their bras SUCK. Ask any woman who's had one and they'll agree--they're crappy, they fall apart and are useless. They're the Zayre of bras. The really good bras are found elsewhere, but the prettiest ones (La Perla, Fellini, etc) are so expensive, you need a tax return to prove you can actually walk into their hallowed store. I know. I wandered in there one afternoon and almost had my hand chopped off as I attempted to touch a hanger. Not too surprisingly, they were about to close the store for a *personality* to come do some shopping. I wonder who it was, but I really don't care. They can have their pretty bras for a billion bucks; I still have some bitchin' to do about what I'm stuck with.

Today's rather fancy piece of fabric was promised to be 'line free' and give me a 'smooth silouette' under my shirts. Um, yeah, it does that. It does it at the expense of any femininity I want to have, but it does it. I feel like I'm wearing weird bandages wrapped around various parts of my ribcage, all with different tensile strengths and elasticities. I can walk saucily to the train, I can wear cute smooth shirts, but at all times I'm reminded of the sight in the mirror this morning and it sucks all saucy cuteness out of me. Flattering? Never. Practical? Ever. The flattering ones are used for/by people lounging around, perhaps wandering out to the kitchen to nibble on something and then glide back to the living room for some more video viewing. They're darling, they're cute, the're lacy and frilly and make me look like the goddess I know I am.

I just can't wear them with 2/3 of my clothes. Nobody wants to see all those bumps on your shirt from your bra. They're scared to ask if it's a disease, and don't want to admit they're looking at your (insert favorite euphumism here).
**Personally, my favorite is ta-tas, used by my dance teacher; boobies works well too.**
It's just not fair. I'm on my way home, and I'm counting down until I can struggle out of this, put on my bike clothes, and get outside. Because when you're an active athlete, you don't worry about stuff like this. You worry about the important things like 'how much longer?'