As a modern woman, I pride myself in the fact that I almost never wear a bra. Aside from a super light, comfy bralette when it works with my outfit or a nipple cover for nights out, I’m freeing the nip from dawn to dusk. If my carefree tits bother you, it’s your responsibility to simply look away. Imagine my surprise, then, when I landed an interview for a paralegal position at a law firm and took a look at the company’s dress code. I couldn’t believe it: I was going to have to wear a real bra.
The last time I even saw an underwire bra was in 2019, and the last time I wore one had to be – I don’t know – pre-Y2K. I’ve been working remotely or freelance for a while, and I’m not a huge fan of ribcage crushing or boob squishing. I didn’t even own a real bra anymore, unless you consider an ancient hand-me-down from 2016 “real” or my old, weathered sports bra a “bra.”
The office dress code was unfathomable. They expected everyone to dress “formally and with decorum,” which was basically code for “no ankle showing allowed.” There was even an asterisk at the bottom that clarified all men should wear suits and women were legally required to wear bras. Even looking past the gender essentialism here, I thought the rules were bogus. How could I be expected to think when my titties were caged in a brutalist chamber? How could I perform well when my boobs were being held at attention against my will? These were all questions that I asked an employee at the nearest bra retailer.
I bit the bullet and bought the most comfortable “real bra” I could find, which measured about a seven on the pain scale and a dreaded zero on the Kinsey scale. Putting the bra on felt like placing myself in a Saw trap where the reward was a job but the price was my joy.
I came to the interview peeved but prepared, and then to top it all off, I didn’t even get the job! Apparently, they were looking for someone with “paralegal experience” who “wears closed-toed shoes to the office.” I ripped the bra off as soon as I could and threw it in my drawer at home, where I imagine I will only take it out if I wish to punish myself or make a nun costume of some sort.
