Last night I met a girlfriend for dinner at our favorite Thai restaurant, but before I left the house I had a media/news/information meltdown. It turns out Heisman leading man Jameis Winston will not face a rape charge; not enough evidence, reported too late, refusal of a police interview, can’t find the witnesses, etc… Then there’s Microsoft and the bra that’s going to help women — because apparently we need the help — to not overeat by putting a sensor in buckles and straps that we already hate wearing.
Tomorrow would have been my grandmother’s 94th birthday. Grandma hated bras. When I was little, I laughed at the jokes she would make about bras, how she would call them “harnesses” and that they must have been made by men, how after her breast cancer and mastectomy (that no one mentioned because it was unmentionable) she stopped wearing a bra at home.
Refused to wear it even when the priest came to give my grandfather communion. Refused to wear it when my young uncles brought their friends over. Refused to wear it when company was coming for Christmas. Just refused.
I remember feeling so embarrassed for her back then. How could she stand (and ignore) the stares? The shame of that one dangling breast under her housecoat.
If I could talk to her now I’d tell her how bold, how brave she was. And I can’t help but wonder what she’d think of our latest, new and not so new, harnesses, and how far we haven’t come.