When I was 16 I had a rainbow bra.
It was Lacy.

A lacy rainbow bra.

Sounds tacky
racy
maybe it was.

But it was also sexy and fun and I loved it.

One day friends were over and I was getting changed. I was in my jeans and my lacy, racy rainbow bra.

Gary walked up the stairs, and it was quite the scandal that I let him come in while I finished getting ready.

Somehow there was this magic few months when I was 16 where I could wear my bra with jeans in front of groups of people and feel good about it.

Something to do with having a boyfriend, I guess.
A boob man boyfriend.
A boobfriend
Who became my
Husband
(Now my Was-band)

That husband saw me from my racy lacy rainbow bra days to my comfy sports bra days, my bra less pregnant days, my I-don’t-even-know-what-I-wore-milk-leaking-through postpartum days, through my years of nursing bra days. The wire bras of high school became comfy bras of motherhood. Good bras were bought for going back to work, but still – these were not lacy or racy… and they all came off as soon as I came home at the end of the day.

He said he loved me through all of those days.

Right before the pandemic I decided I should try to buy a good bra again. It was expensive. It was nice. It had lace!

I remember joking with Heather about my real grown-up bra. She told me I should go to Victoria’s Secret for some more. I think she sent me links.

I didn’t know of course, that Gary had already started taking her bra off for her.