Saturday, July 25, 2015
I need a new bra. The one I mostly wear has a broken hook that scratches my back and the underwire is popping out. I think to myself, “This is a good opportunity to do some ethical purchasing!” and I get online and research “ethical bras”. Two hundred dollars plus shipping from California? I just… I can’t. My tail between my legs, I drag myself to a mall. I haven’t been to a mall in over a year and the lights immediately make me feel nauseas. The people are walking to slowly, or too fast, and they all look the same. I look the same as them. It’s a crisis. I go into La Senza. Seven panties for twenty eight dollars! Push up bras! Negligees! Boy shorts! Sassy sexy overload of pink and black. I am ashamed. I just want a fucking bra, maybe two, so that I don’t have to go through this again anytime soon! I grab a few, nothing crazy, one flesh-toned, one pink, and a handful of thongs. I peel off my tank top and wonder who made these, whose fingers touched where my nipple will be, where my shoulder supports the weight of my breasts.