My Life With Passion (for Bralettes)

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The minute I said, “bralettes,” I knew I’d misread the room.

My audience of Beautiful Women^TM stared, unimpressed.

You know the kind: they “salud” sisterhood at birthday parties while clinking lemongrass martinis (light on the simple syrup, please), and they genuinely use clouds as a visual reminder to stay present and appreciate the surreal beauty of being alive, even when faced with the darkest depression.

And I’ve just told them I’m passionate about lacy crop tops that masquerade as bras.

Of course, I knew instantly the prompt would stump me.

“Introduce yourself by telling us something you’re passionate about.”

Passion? I can’t pretend I’ve ever felt true passion. Passion requires a genuine lack of facetious-ness I’ve never been able to muster. I’m too sarcastic for it; it’s not in my genes. Even things I really like don’t survive my mentality of mocking.

But, sometimes, I do wonder what my life would look like if it had more passion.

Would I be more successful? Would I have more friends?

Would I be able to make it through a yoga class without laughing?

And yet, as superficial as it seems, in that moment, I was actually passionate about bralettes.
It’s silly to say, but they’ve changed my life.

I spent most of my teenage years lamenting what I called “the Jones Family Nipples.” A genetic curse from my mother, JFN are nipples that never cease to alert the world of their presence, unless you trap them inside a padded boob prison. As any good woman knows, having nipples is an affront to Men, Republicans, and God, in order of importance. So, I hid my JFN away.

Until BuzzFeed started telling me all about bralettes.

They were trendy, and you didn’t have to suffer the indignity of a bra fitting to buy one. So, during one Christmas vacation with my mom, I took a chance. I bought a bralette.

I was hesitant at first. I wore it, tentatively, at home. With close friends. And then, July happened.

In the swampy throes of a Southeast Texas summer, they literally breathed life into me. They made the outdoors more tolerable, open back dresses possible. Plus, they were really cute.

During Hurricane Harvey, I slept in a bralette every night. When the evening assault of tornado warnings began, I was prepared to meet the unrelenting weather event with at least some semblance of a bra. In a traumatic situation, they brought me some civilized comfort.

So maybe it’s a little weird to be passionate about bralettes. Whatever. I’m weird.

In fact, I saw one of these women recently. The Queen Beautiful Woman.

“You’ve met before – at my birthday party,” my friend re-introduced me.

“Oh! Bralette girl!” QBW exclaimed, granting me a nickname. But I embraced it.

“I’m wearing one now!” I laughed.

She smiled, then shyly asked, “Ok.

But what is a bralette, actually?”

Originally written January 18, 2018
Learn more about this piece in my behind the scenes blog.