I Was Feeling Mischievous
As I sat in my parked car, I decided I was going to do it. I was going to take off my bra.
After I discreetly removed it and leaned forward to toss it into my backpack, I felt the soft cotton material of my t-shirt brush against my chest. I leaned back in my seat and exhaled. This is why I had done it. To feel that pleasurable sensation of the fabric against me. To be able to sit in my car, finishing my frappe, knowing that there was nothing underneath. People would walk by, not knowing that beneath my shirt was bare skin.
I realize that many women go braless all the time, but my boobs are especially heavy, and going braless usually leads to more discomfort than not. Just a few minutes without a bra and I’m already reaching for the back of my neck in an effort to massage away the unpleasant stiffness.
But not today. Today I was letting them roam free. Just the mere fact that there was barely anything between my breasts and the air felt…titillating? Nah, that’s too easy. It felt…anticipatory.
It was arousing, knowing that my naked breasts were only a shirt-lift away. I closed my eyes and let myself revel in the possibility.
Soon enough, I was getting so excited that I couldn’t resist letting my hand migrate down towards my pants. Once I did, I let my mind drift off into fantasyland. When I was done, I opened my eyes, and to my horror, there was a woman staring at me from the sidewalk, a few feet away from my car. Before I could ponder the fact that she could call the police on me for public indecency, she gave me a wink, and then walked away.
I exhaled in relief. Phew. I couldn’t believe she had actually winked at me! Talk about a story for the books…
I’m so sorry, dear reader, but I have to stop myself here.
I’m lying.
I set out to write about a specific experience, and took it it another direction.
Writing about sensual stuff tends to turn into me writing porn, and for that, depending on what you are into, I am either sorry or not sorry.
What Really Happened?
I did take off my bra in my car, but it wasn’t because I wanted to feel the soft t-shirt material against my skin — it was because wearing it had felt like several men applying pressure to my sternum, and with my acid reflux disease, this sensation is not conducive to eating and digesting food.
The truth is not quite as exciting, but it still needs to be expressed.
* * *
I often feel incredibly conflicted about talking about weight — weight gain, weight loss, and everything in between. I agonize about potentially triggering other people’s traumas. I agonize about people misinterpreting what I mean when I talk about wanting or needing to lose weight.
But, c’est la vie. People will think what they think.
The reality is that I would like to lose weight, not for any reason other than feeling physically uncomfortable in my body.
I’m five feet tall and curvy. I currently have 30–40 extra pounds on me that I don’t need. And all the extra weight goes to my middle.
I walk around with what looks like a pregnancy pooch that I try to hide as best I can.
When I exercise, I’m not great at maintaining my balance, as my center of gravity feels off.
And when I sit down to eat…I feel this immense pressure in my abdominal area…from where the fat is compressed on itself.
It is the weirdest issue; I can’t say I know of any other people with this specific problem. Short height often equals tiny proportions. I rarely find clothes that have my proportions; they don’t make pants with a relatively small leg to a gigantic waist. Because of this I have always hated shopping for clothes, at least for pants. I gave up on the torture devices they call jeans years ago. A couple of years ago I found a pair of large size leggings at a CVS that fit well enough if I stretched the waist out with my hands before putting them on, and I never looked back. In the summer, I rotate between a skirt and a pair of shorts, both with an elastic waist that I loosened by making a cut on each side, so that they can be mostly form-fitting, without a waist too tight to be uncomfortable.
My acid reflux and the pressure of the fat folded in on itself can lead to a sensation of shortness of breath while eating, and sometimes even difficulty swallowing, which is incredibly unnerving.
A bra band normally sits benignly against my sternum. When I’m eating, the band creates a sensation of pressure in my chest that just makes the whole experience unpleasant.
Taking it off did feel liberating, albeit for non-sexy reasons.
Choosing For Yourself is Sexy
I finished the TV episode I was watching on my phone and slurped the rest of my Oreo Iced Capp, topped with plenty of whipped cream.
One would think that dieting might help relieve me of the pressure on my abdomen, and I know that lifestyle changes will eventually have to be made. But for now, I prefer the pleasurable distraction of sipping my sugary drinks.
If taking off my bra in public places makes eating a more enjoyable experience, then I’ll do what I gotta do.
And a woman doing what she feels is best for her in the moment, regardless of people’s opinions is, dare I say — arousing?
Whether it’s for sexy reasons or for digestive comfort, taking off your bra in a public place can be pretty damn liberating.
Even if the sexy version of events is a little more fun.
