This weekend Eric and I went to a beautiful wedding at the American Museum of Visionary Arts in Baltimore, as one of my oldest and dearest friends was getting married there. We had just been to Baltimore the weekend before for Eric’s friend’s wedding, so I felt pretty confident in my packing-for-a-Baltimore-wedding skills and didn’t go through my usual anal-retentive, checklist-obsessive packing routine.
An hour before the wedding, I realized that I did not pack a bra.
Not a huge problem, as my dress (and my boob size) didn’t necessarily require one, but I had never worn the dress without one. So needless to say, I was a little panicked and self-conscious, and I made Eric swear 50 times up and down that you couldn’t tell my boobs had no support. I also turned down his gracious offer to cup them in his hands the entire night. I don’t know, I just felt like that might draw even more attention.
Then we arrive at the wedding, my boob anxiety rising, and what is the FIRST thing we encounter? This.
A HUGE. FUCKING. BALL OF BRAS. 18,000 bras to be exact.
“Look, it’s 18,000 more bras than you’re wearing!” Eric yelled. Loudly.
And in that moment I couldn’t help but feel I was living out that Alanis Morissette song. You know, the one that goes “It’s like 18,000 bras in a ball, when all you need is one to wear…”
But come on. That is ironic. Don’t you think?
Therapist: “How are the sensory issues this week?”
Me: “I did what you told me and got new bras– and they definitely fit WAY better! It made me realize how old and stretched out my other ones were. But I still can’t WAIT to take them off.”
Therapist: “Ok, well then you probably do have a bit of a natural sensitivity to it, regardless of the fit.”
Me: “So I got new bras for nothing?”
Therapist: “Well I wouldn’t say it was for nothing.”
Me: “But the sensory problem isn’t fixed.”
Therapist: “Ok, but…you should still have new bras.”
Therapist: “That fit you.”
Therapist: “And that aren’t 10 years old.”
Therapist: “Just as a general rule, you should replace your undergarments every once in a while.”
OK LADY. BACK OFF.
Me: “Can depression and anxiety cause sensory issues? I just feel like I’m SO sensitive to the feel of certain clothing on my body.”
Therapist: “Sensory issues can definitely be comorbid with anxiety. But give me an example.”
Me: “Like, for instance– bras. I can’t STAND wearing a bra. I feel like I’m always tugging at it and feeling suffocated and honestly, sometimes I just take it off in the middle of the day because I can’t stand it anymore. And I feel like it’s not normal to be THIS sensitive to it, and it must be related to my mental health issues, right? Or a side effect of the Prozac? Or maybe it’s a whole other disorder I didn’t even know I had?”
Therapist: “When was the last time you bought a bra?”
Me: “Ummm…” <thinking hard. A good 30 seconds pass>
Therapist: “Yeah. Your bras don’t fit.”
Me: “You think?”
Therapist: “Yes. Go buy new bras.”
Me: “Oh. Ok.”
Shoshana (aka “Sho”), my Israeli alter ego who I will henceforth be referring to in the 3rd person, is so much more fun than my American self that I am starting to wonder if I have a legitimate split personality disorder. (Add it to the list. Or don’t. There’s no more room on the list. Even the margins are full).
But seriously. Sho stays up until 4am, drinks like a fish, is super extroverted, and likes to shop.
She also simply can NOT be bothered to wear a bra.
So I guess in that sense we’re the same.
When you live where you work, you can NOT go run a quick errand braless.
Admittedly, this is about the 9th time I’ve learned this lesson the hard way.
I just really hate bras.
But I’m sorry for the weird moment, kid.