Purple-draped changing rooms loop around a plump, cream chaise longue, and on the walls hang sepia-toned photos of exceptionally sexy—and well-endowed—women. Through an open door, I glimpse a stockroom filled with gleaming racks of bras in every size, style, and color imaginable. Peach, crimson, black, cream, dark blue, magenta; full cups, demi cups, balconettes; with wires and without. At age 11, it was quite the opposite.
At this point in my life, I was hiding behind MySpace angles and chest-up photos, hoping that nobody would discover what I truly was.
I was thinking about going braless the other day because I wanted to wear a strappy dress, but I felt so uncomfortable and vulnerable without a bra that I chickened out. What can I do? I can totally relate to your experiences.
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