If one were posed the option of whether they would like to confine some part of their body in tight elastic and metal wires, the immediate answer for most would be a resounding no thank you. But when it comes to undergarments, there is no option for most women in most work places. It states right in the dress code potion of the employee handbook that necessary undergarments are required. Breasts of all sizes are to be kept in their place, appropriately covered and secured, and that restraining apparatus is to be hidden from sight. This is mostly accepted without qualms, even by me, but I do have an issue. (Don’t I always?)

I never signed off on this uncomfortable chest piece. I was never part of the meeting where it was voted mandatory. It is the first thing to come off of my body when I get home from work and sometimes even on the drive home, I’m slipping my arms through my sleeves to separate myself  from the binding garment. But I wear it, like every other woman in public and I appreciate the support and the efforts made by the expensive manufacturers to keep them cute and comfortable for our liking, being that us ladies are expected to don them at any moment we are visible to the public eye. As long as I can continue to afford the quality bras that don’t break mid-day and leave me with a metal under wire poking into the sensitive skin of my breasts, I’ll be okay sporting these things in a daily basis, as required by society.

But what I really hate and take issue with is that if a piece of this required undergarment is visible, the impression is that I am committing a taboo or being tasteless.

From SheFinds.com:

For every one person who manages to pull this look off, there are a thousand others who ruin perfectly good outfits, making them look sloppy and cheap by giving the world a view of their dirty bra straps.

From our deliberately few and short interactions, I know for sure that my boss and I are of two very different breeds. The other day we passed one another in the hall outside the office and she remarked something to the effect of, “…visible bra strap,” and, “just sayin’.” To which I responded with a laugh because I had no appropriate words to use. Since our office has been going through a remodel, a wall was put up and we lost about two-thirds of the space we once utilized. The new arrangement has a number of people in a much smaller space. The air clammy, the office is hot. I cut into an apple and within a minute, the green inside was brown. My bamboo plant started dying after three years of perfect health. It’s gross in there. So yes, I was at work in a nice, kelly green tank top with a black vest over it, and if you went ahead and looked at my shoulders, you may have noticed my bra strap peeking out if I had shifted my weight some and let it slide out from under my tank, unnoticed.

My boss’ comment was not to just let me know, as if I might have forgotten entirely that I was strapped down with an uncomfortable piece of clothing around my tits. We don’t get along and she was being a smart ass. This is a given. And it was not appreciated nor would it have been by any person, stranger or otherwise. I kept walking but wanted so much to turn around, ask her to stop for a second, and explain that cardigans and the like were just not going to work in the new jungle air atmosphere of the workplace. So yes, my offending bra strap showed and it would take the jaws of life to extract an apology for this.

As for SheFinds.com, I would sooner stick hot pins in my eyes than apologize for “ruining a perfectly good outfit.” The “perfect goodness” of said outfit being judged, I assume, by people who are so horrifically bored with their lives that taking the time to judge what someone else is wearing may be their only exercise in self-worth. If I look “sloppy and cheap” by the minor exposure of a strap of required undergarments, I’d like to have a sit down to help arrange for the lobotomy that is clearly required for you to move forward with a decent life where something so minor could easily slip by your radar and not prevent you from speaking out about some other insignificant aspect of someone else’s life that has nothing to do with you. The people taking offense or scoffing at this type of thing are so clearly deprived of decent human interaction or pleasurable, fulfilling hobbies that I feel a deep sympathy for them. Unfortunately for them, I dedicate my time and thoughts to decency among people, especially among women, so there isn’t much I can offer to help them out of such a deep, pathetic rut except a winning smile.

Seriously, STFU.

-CJ