I was born in 1954 so was an impressionable 14-year-old when, as a symbol of women’s liberation, a “bra burning” protest took place during the 1968 Miss America pageant in Atlantic City. There’s no evidence there were any bras actually burned, but women of all shapes, sizes, ethnicity, and (presumably) religions, did throw bras, girdles, high heels and other symbols of female “oppression” into a “Freedom Trash Can.”
At age 14 I was pretty “well developed” and couldn’t imagine how a female can even function without a bra. Physical activity was hard, I’d beat myself up running or jumping. Clothes for girls my age did not allow for massive mammaries and I got a lot of unwanted attention from other kids, most of it unpleasant. My shoulders had bra strap indents in them, and mom was constantly admonishing me to stand up straight. You learn to live with all of that and life goes on.
In 2008 I had my first breast cancer diagnosis resulting in a lumpectomy. Around that time but on a separate occasion, I also had a benign lump removed from the same breast. And finally, in 2023 I had my second cancer diagnosis and lumpectomy. All three of the lumpectomies were in my right breast. They’d been carving away at that right Triple D for years, so in 2023 I also elected to have my left breast reduced to get some semblance of symmetry back.
In the end, in the fall of 2023, after a serious infection from the reduction, my breasts did kind of match, were noticeably smaller and nicely lifted. Plastic surgeons in Florida working on older women must specialize in perky boobs. He didn’t ask or warn me.
But I’m off track….
My point is that for more than 60 years, I’ve worn a bra every day. I felt positively naked without a bra. And good, brought-up-Catholic, nice girls didn’t go around being or feeling naked.
After my last surgery in 2023 I threw out all my old underwire bras (no long needed that lift provided by the wire, don’tchya know) and bought a supply of soft, cotton sport bras. In Florida the cotton is far more comfortable because it absorbs the gallons of sweat we produce most days. But eventually I didn’t FEEL like those shapeless cotton sports bras gave me quite enough (mental, maybe) support, so they were relegated to sleeping bras. Yup, I even slept in a bra since 2023. Don’t judge.
Since this latest abnormal mammogram in February 2025 and the resulting chain of events leading to my decision to just chop off the damn things, I didn’t give any thought to dressing after mastectomy. But after I made the decision to proceed with the double mastectomy (DMX for short, especially on social media) with no reconstruction, I started researching.
Wait…can you call looking for mastectomy groups on Facebook research? You’d better say yes, because the things I learned from Facebook far exceeded what the medical profession provided in terms of information.
I went home from the hospital in a pretty pink surgical bra. It has a bunch of Velcro everywhere so it can be adjusted to fit perfectly. It also has little pink ribbons with pink rings to hold the drains sticking out of a patient’s chest. I was ok for a couple days in that contraption, but with nothing to hold it down, the bra kept creeping up my chest and the Velcro was starting to irritate my neck and throat area.
DMX is a procedure that apparently rates high on the “high profile, we’d better treat these people right” scale. I had a beautiful, private hospital room, good food, friendly, competent staff, and my very own (very excellent) home health care nurse who came 3 times a week, or whenever I called her. After asking her on about the 3rd day post-surgery if I needed that surgical bra for compression (she said no), I ditched it in favor of one of those soft cotton sports bras I already owned. It felt heavenly…for a couple of days.
Then, the tightish band on the bottom of the bra was chafing the incisions under my arm. The sports bra also had the same problem as the surgical bra…. nothing to keep it from creeping up toward my neck. It had a nice scoop neck design so it didn’t irritate my neck and throat, but I was constantly yanking it down into place, which, irritatingly, was right on my incision.
I ditched that sports bra too after a couple of days. And I felt like I was in a real pickle. How do I find clothing comfort at this point? I went back to the best research source I’d found and consulted the experts on Facebook.
It’s kind of amazing to me how many women who’ve had mastectomies post photos of themselves on social media, naked from the waist up, after their surgeries. Isn’t that illegal? I mean, aren’t bare-chested women pornographic? Some of them were on beaches (public beaches!).
Turns out that’s a complicated question and generally depends on local laws. But the consensus seemed to be (at least on Facebook) that if there are no nipples showing, topless is ok, legally. Just so you know, that ain’t happening in my lifetime. And neither are the chest tattoos that are alarmingly popular. I must admit, though, that the thought of going in my pool topless in broad daylight does have some appeal. If I’m wearing enough sunscreen. And there are no neighbors who might actually catch a glimpse they wish they hadn’t.
But hey, I’m off track again…
I started digging around in my T-shirt drawer and found a couple of clingy ribbed tank tops I bought when I first moved to Florida. I never wore them in public because honestly, they looked awful on me. But they were soft, and I was desperate. I put one of them on and immediately felt hugged. They were soft, cotton, not too tight and felt like a covering, not a bra. I hesitated a few minutes considering whether I, a 71-year-old woman, brought up Catholic, and who never, ever considered burning her bra before, could actually wear a shirt without proper undergarments. I decided (well, justified maybe) that yes, things change, and we have to change with the circumstances. I rationalized that since I no longer have breasts, there is truly no need for undergarments made for breasts.
I wore that wonderful shirt the rest of the day, without the bra, and though it crept up a little, it was the most comfortable thing I’d had on since the day of surgery. The next day I wore the other color and loved how it felt all day. On the third day, having exhausted the supply of shirts from my own drawer, I made Randy take me shopping where I bought a package of 5 men’s ribbed cotton tank tops. They are my new, favorite shirts.
So, look Ma, no bra! It feels like freedom to me after a lifetime of bondage.
P.S. Yesterday was my own personal independence day when the drains (the worst part of the whole ordeal) were removed. I started to develop an infection last week but the excellent home health nurse caught it early and nipped it in the bud with icky tasting antibiotics. I feel fantastic and am glad to be, I think, back on the road to my new normal.
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