A Hypothetical Conversation with my Brassiere

24 Apr

Me: What the fuck are you doing?

Bra: I’m just living my life man.

Me: Yeah, well can you live your life without stabbing me? That would be really helpful.

Bra: Hey guess what, I didn’t ask to carry around your sweaty, heavy tits all day, okay? If you want me to work for you I gotta do me.

Me: Dude, that is not how this works. I purchased you so you do what I say, ok?

Bra: That is both funny and offensive. Aren’t you supposed to be some feminist blogger or something? Aren’t you supposed to be allergic to phrases like ‘I own you’?

Me: YOU ARE A BRA! STOP MESSING WITH MY SHIT!

Bra: If you don’t like the way I play then don’t wear me. It’s no hair off my balls.

Me: You know that isn’t an option. If that were an option I wouldn’t have spent time and money at a freaking soul-sucking Victoria’s Secret store. If it was a viable or comfortable option for these big old bags of fat that you fail to properly carry-

Bra: Oh, so you admit that I’m more comfortable than going without me!

Me: Well, yes, but only-

Bra: You said yes!

Me: I said ‘yes, but’!

Bra: You said yes. The yes in a ‘yes, but’ still counts as a yes!

Me: Now who sounds like a scary misogynist?

Bra: Oh get off your high horse. You still need to type that word into google to spell it right.

Me: Shut it.

Bra: I am more comfortable than hangin loose. So just deal with it.

Me: Yeah, barely. When I stand with my arms down at my sides, yeah. But I really like to move them in front of my body you know. Typing, picking items up, writing with pencils, eating with forks. You know, without adjusting you every minute.

Bra: That sounds like a personal problem.

Me: A problem which I paid a company a decent amount of money hypothetically to help me with! Listen, I paid 50 bucks a pop so I could strap you to my erogenous bits for upwards of 14 hours every day. The least you could do is just… you know hold my tits in one place so they don’t bounce around painfully while not stabbing me, pinching me or digging into my back making rolls that I don’t actually have.

Bra: So now you’re fatphobic? Is that it?

Me: No, I just want to look like me without painful tits-ness. I don’t even really mind the way I look without a bra except for how I need to run up and down stairs all day and that’s just a no-go. And honestly you’re only marginally helpful in those instances anyway.

Bra: I don’t really know why we’re having this conversation. I’m not going to change.

Me: *Changes into a different bra*

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