So I’ve finally become “that” mom. I’ve started walking up to the bus stop without a bra on.
Now, first, I must tell you, that I have luckily (???) not been blessed with a large set. I have heard first hand from my more well endowed friends that this is not even an option for them. But my B cups are easily hidden under a sweatshirt and a winter coat. I, obviously, cannot do this come the warm days of spring … bras and shaving legs will back on the to do list, but I’m enjoying it while I can.
Well, that’s not completely true.
Each morning, as I walk out of the house, properly covered, I imagine there being some extenuating circumstance that would force me to expose my “secret”. It usually involves some sort of horrible accident with gushing blood.
I can’t think of any other reason why I would need to take my clothes off at the bus stop. Clearly my imagination leaves a lot to be desired.
I imagine throwing my coat off, ripping my sweatshirt off my body and using it as a tourniquet on some poor child that’s bleeding to death. Apparently, the only way to save him is to use my sweatshirt. I imagine all the moms staring at my braless chest (under my tshirt of course … I would never go as far as to imagine that I’d be naked … gah!) and gasping in horror. “Did you see she wasn’t wearing a bra?” is, I’m SURE, the first thing that would come to their minds. Not the bleeding boy on the ground. Even in emergency situations there is proper etiquette. Everyone knows this.
What’s ridiculous about this whole scenario (I’m sorry, did you think there was more than one reason why this scenario is ridiculous?), is that the moms at my bus stop are so cool, that, provided the boy made it out alive and well (of course I saved him!!!), we’d probably all sit around drinking that night, laughing about my cow-sagging boobs.
Only a couple more weeks of this semi-irrational fear (yes, SEMI!!) and then I’ll be back to holding the ladies in place. I promise.