There are less bras lying about during the week. On the weekend they might be found strewn wherever, almost strategically, less fashion statement and more territorial marking? Despite racking a swell man-boob myself, I’m still the only guy in the house - and I don’t know what ‘bra marking’ is all about. Hanging on a hallway doorknob, on the back of a kitchen chair, clip-chipped to the message board, stuffed into bookshelves? What does it mean? Where do the bras go during the week? Does this mean they aren’t wearing them on the weekend (perfect, way to go hippy dad!)? Or do they just take them off on Friday’s, like a construction worker that throws his hard-hat in the middle of the kitchen - too exhausted and disgusted with it to wear it another step, replacing it with that perfectly worn ball cap? Or is it more euphoric - like a frisky dog, loosed from his collar, with a long case of the zooomies’ at hand, naked again and naked forever!
Having been collateral damage of scores (hundreds? Thousands?) of sweater/scarf/shirt/make-up battles, I say with confidence that bras have some special consideration, a Geneva convention like clause that precludes direct conscription of another’s bra. (1)(2). Punishment having broken the Bras before Bitches rules varies from face-scratching (aggravating factors for this most severe reaction include: working out or sweating in said bra, staining said bra, or stretching said bra out with “your giant dinosaur tits” (3) to the more passive treatments like throwing said bra in the trash, along with one of your sister’s bras as tribute, or drawing smiley faces on the cups, to the threat of a ‘boob-punch’ (5)
Anyway, this was just a quick shout out to Bras. Your consistent mystery is something to behold. To the beautiful women in my life: May yours be form fitting, supportive, easy on, easy off, comfortable enough to sleep in if you get too drunk, machine-washable and quick to dry, and most importantly have enough heft and elasticity to rubber band shoot clear across the room with accuracy - to fling perchance to hang, where all who walk past will know - here lies woman, unbound, this is my house and I’ll be comfortable here. (4)
