My relationship with bras

Being one of the first tender flowers to blossom and bud was an incredibly intoxicating and terrifying thing. Being bestowed with these two ripening fruits on my chest garnered attention from older men and jarred jealousy in my peers, little did I know my relationship with these fleshy orbs of attention would soon become tumultuous. A simple padded bra gave me the high of an opulent queen but as soon as my peers caught up into their ripening season I quickly fell behind, and my high rein of booby queen came crumbling down. I tried to replicate my days as queen using various embarrassing methods, in middle school I would stack on layers of bras as if the extra material could mask my cracked and deteriorating self image. I would look at myself in the mirror as some alien vessel of flesh, as if extra volume in my breasts would precipitate a transcendence into godliness. Then I transitioned into the phase of intense mega push up bras hoping the gargantuan lift would carry my spirits with it. Instead of molding my spirits this solution left me with red and raw indents from forcing the unnatural upon my body. No matter what methods I used to contort and manipulate my flesh I was still left not content. As the years progressed my relationship with straps and cups slowly fettered out as my respect and love for my body grew. The natural body should be celebrated not paraded around as as a thing to alter. Many people associate the decision to go bra free or without padding as some shameful slutty thing, when it's quite contrary. Celebrating the natural essence of your body not only allows comfort but inner peace. You are a miraculous creature with infinite beauty regardless of the shape or shade of your flesh. Let your fruit dangle as they were made.