The Curse of the Bra

There are very few things I hate worse in life than wearing a bra. Yes, I know, I've got huge, gigantic ta-tas, and, therefore, cannot go "free range" as I'd wish. But, oh how I wish I could. As it is, I wear the lamest bra known to man - I might as well not even wear one for how much support it doesn't give me. Still, it's a bra and I feel like I'm doing my civic duty by at least attempting to adhere to social norms. That is, until now. Yesterday I found a bra for $4.99 and bought it without even trying it on. Shockingly, it fits. Of course, it's now halfway through the first day of wearing said new bra, which means, basically, I want to kill every person I see as the "adjustment" is putting me in a foul mood. This is not fun. Bras should not be some sort of torture device. But, it'll do. It gives me support, I can actually see my breasts (albeit WAY too high....they're kinda freaking me out being so high), and I think it's doing what my other bra wishes it could do. I still hate it. Ugh.