My BIGGEST FEAR about Attending BlogHer…

My Biggest Fear About BlogHer
So then…panic grips me. It completely devours the excitement I’d been feeling about attending my first BlogHer conference with 5,000 other bloggers in Chicago later this week.

My BIGGEST FEAR about attending the conference reveals itself:

I’m not used to wearing a bra all day long.

At home, as soon as I get back from work, I pop off that constricting torture device and let the girls roam free in a stretchy comfortable camisole.

But at BlogHer, we’ll be going from workshops and sessions directly to dinners and parties.

Bras will probably be expected.

But right about 5:00 pm –

as I’m sitting in a sea of women all attentively focused on the pearls of wisdom dripping from the articulate mouths of the amazing BlogHer speakers –

I fear that my torso will begin to tingle –

my shoulders will begin to squirm –

and my lumps, my lumps, my lovely lady lumps, will yearn to be freed!

I will try to ignore them.

I will concentrate mightily on the speeches and readings and presentations.

But all the while, I’ll be distracted by my aching bosoms, longing to be unfettered.

After all, they’re accustomed to release — right about THIS time EVERY DAY.

I’ll itch. I’ll twitch. I’ll twist and turn.

My bra will compress more and more like a boa constrictor crushing its prey.

And I’m absolutely terrified that –

completely against my will –

my bra will spontaneously SNAP OFF and go flying through the air!

And my grateful breasts will sigh with exquisite relief as they plop into my lap where they belong.

And much like new mothers who uncontrollably begin lactating at the sound of someone else’s crying baby –

I fear that my 5,000 fellow female bloggers’ breasts will sense MY lady lumps’ liberty –

so THEIR bras will ALSO spontaneously SNAP off THEIR bodies and go flying through the conference room!

Snap! Boing! Blam! Ping! Whip! Pop!

Boobies will be bursting out EVERYWHERE!

A huge wild scene of cute breasts and bodacious ta-tas and funky tattoos and nipple rings waving free in the night:

RELEASE…THE…HOUNDS!

And the speaker on stage will see a kaleidoscope of thousands of black, red, white, purple, and pink constricting lingerie popping off the bodies of shocked and horrified women, who are absolutely humiliated that their formerly pert and perky boobies are now puddled on their dinner plates.

And everyone will look to me as the instigator –

either with revulsion

or wait, perhaps…

perhaps…

gratitude?

Will they grin with relief — and hail me as the Emancipator of the Bras That Bind?

Will they clap and cheer, letting their boobies breathe the sweet cool air of the unencumbered?

Will we break out the body paint and GO WILD like the women in my BOOBALICIOUS & HILARIOUS post?

No one knows for sure. But synchronize your watches for 5:00 pm Central Standard Time the first night of the conference – and let the games begin!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Do YOUR boobs begin to strain and push against your constricting bra at the end of the day too? Don’t you hate TIGHT things? I used to tell people the first thing I did when I got home from work was to take off my bra and my wedding ring. Then someone asked, “Your bra and your wedding ring? Whose home are you going to!?” If you’re attending BlogHer (or any type of conference) soon — what’s YOUR biggest fear?)

My Biggest Fear About BlogHer P

Wrangle Those Bosoms!

So then…she peeks outside the curtain of the dressing room and whispers excitedly, “Is she back yet?” Chloe is literally giddy with joy.

She is being fitted for her first bra. She is 9.

Most of her classmates are already 10 and have begun wearing bras to school.

Chloe feels the time is right for her too. “Mom, I really – really – need a bra!”

So off to Nordstroms we go, since the department store is known for its professional lingerie ladies who work with you to find the perfect fit.

Saleslady Myra returns to the dressing room with 3 more selections. Chloe tries them on. Myra adjusts straps and hooks. She talks about fabric and breathability and the importance of the careful care and cleaning of one’s bras.

Chloe is soaking it all up, reveling in this “big girl” experience.

As we exit the store, we’re both grinning, satisfied that she’s succeeded in purchasing two bras in the correct size, fabric, and color.

Every day, she ceremoniously dons a bra before getting dressed, making a big production of it – shutting the door, whispering, looking at me meaningfully since this sort of thing can only be discussed between two women such as us.

One day, she can’t find them right away, so she’s in a panic. “Mom, Mom, I can’t find my bras! I can’t go to school without a braaaaaaaa!”

Oh, the horror!

I want to point out that until very recently she was breezy and braless every day at school and everywhere else – and she could probably get by for one day without the world being aghast in alarm. But I merely help her locate the errant underclothes and she quickly puts one on with great relief.

She loves wearing a bra. She calls her grandmother in Florida. “You know, Grammy, I’m wearing a bra now,” she says quite seriously. Grammy oohs and aahs and makes the appropriate congratulatory remarks.  Every time a Victoria’s Secret commercial comes on, Chloe shoots me a conspiratorial grin.

This excitement goes on for about 3 weeks, then Chloe turns to me one day and says thoughtfully, “By the way, Mom, what does a bra do exactly?”

–Darcy Perdu

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(What’s your story? Have your kids absolutely had to have something? Do you remember your first bra? Any bra mishaps? Share some good bra stories about you or your relatives in the Comments Section!)