Light 'Em Up

If you don't look at bra catalogues, you should. It will tell you more about what's wrong with Western culture than any other type of literature.

For starters, it will tell you that there are two basic types of bras. One type is for women whose breasts aren't overly large. These bras are very, very cute. Maybe a little... too cute. They come in lots of pretty colors and shapes, and have underwire and satin and lace and padding to enhance your figure and your cleavage, and make you look like you don't have such tiny little unwomanly tits.

Then there's the other type of bra. These are industrial strength bras, and make no attempt at prettiness, aside from the occasional bow at the deepest point of the neckline, which comes across more as a sneer than anything else. They come in white or beige, and have vast stretchy cups with minimizer panels and wide straps. They are designed to cover you up and smoosh you down and make you look like you don't have such nasty big un-girlish tits.

Nursing bras are just beginning to be available in styles that aren't completely utilitarian, and it's about damn time. Even when Anna was born, just over six years ago, it was practically impossible to find something that wasn't of the white, heavy-duty variety. Apparently a few clever marketing types have recently noticed that there's a certain connection between having sex and having babies, and begun selling attractive bras accordingly.

But it's too little (so to speak), too late, and I still have way too much trouble finding cute bras that I don't fall out of if I bend over quickly. I've had it. Let's burn them all!

(Isaac Asimov, that raunchy old darling, once insisted that Women's LIB stood for "Let's Ignite Bras." Why quibble?)