I’ve written about bras before and made it clear that since retirement, I usually forego undergarments of any kind. Today, I would like to relay the story of my search for the perfect bra. That happened before I had the pleasure of stuffing them all into a drawer to only rarely take out when I didn’t want my headlights showing to anyone but my wife.

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I am one of those people who constantly tug at the edge of my bra because either the wire or elastic below my breasts irritates the shit out of me. I used to only wear sports bras, thinking they were more comfortable. They’re not.

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Several years back, I was in Nordstrom’s looking for a dress to wear to a fancy event that would also double as the dress I would wear to my nephew’s wedding. Since the dress was an off the shoulder style, I knew I would have to endure a strapless bra for an entire evening. I was not looking forward to that. The kind lady who was helping me asked if I had ever been fitted for a bra because I was whining about having to wear some uncomfortable underwire option that was sure to press against my skin. I admitted that usually I wore sports bras or I did try this one brand that was mostly soft against my skin (silk or satin was the material with a loose elastic at the bottom) and had been relatively comfortable compared to everything else I’d tried. I agreed to the fitting.

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The end result was a purchase of my very first bra that could only be described as ultra-feminine lacy lingerie that I’d never once considered in my past pursuit of the perfect bra. I also learned that I was not a B-cup, but rather a C-cup. I’d always thought I was of less than average size because I’d smashed my breast into sports bras for years.

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This bra became my favorite bra because although it was not as comfortable as going without, it was a huge improvement. No more readjusting straps and only the occasional tug at the bottom.

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Now, I’m probably making an overgeneralization here, but I tend to think that many lesbians choose the sports bra variety which makes no sense to me anymore. Why? For two reasons.

Try suavely taking off your lover’s sports bra during love-making. That is never going to happen. And…if they are as tight as mine used to be to keep them from riding up, it makes for a comical evening trying to remove one.
Do you know how hard it is to remove a sports bra while keeping your shirt on? Try impossible. But, with a bra that hooks in the back or front…no problem.

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The other day, we were making our way back from Seattle and I had decided I was done with my bra. Once you start not wearing one for the most part and you’re forced to put one on while in public, any bra becomes irritating, even the perfect fit one that you bought at Nordstrom’s. For those who have mastered this trick, you know what I’m talking about. Step one: unhook your bra either in the front or back. Step two: pull one of the straps down and off one arm. Step three: pull the other strap from the opposite arm and yank the entire bra through that sleeve of your shirt. Magic…no more bra. I did this while driving. Yup, I am particularly talented at this trick.

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Thus, my final assessment is that the perfect bra is any bra you can remove without removing your shirt first. Bonus: my wife hanging my discarded bra on the rearview mirror after removal, causing me to laugh and swat it off. That playful side of my wife always keeps me on my toes. If she isn’t flashing me while on Facebook Live, she’s placing my bra on the mirror…like some kind of trophy. Even though I was the one to remove it!

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I can’t remember if I’ve ever written a scene in a book describing the above technique for bra removal, perhaps y’all can check out my books and jog my memory! You know the drill, simply click on one of the links below. Don’t forget about my newest release, One Shot at Love. I am particularly proud of this book. A rarity for me!

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