I despise wearing bras. I used to think I could get away
with not wearing one as I have always been quite flat-chested the majority of
my life. But I have experienced major
back pains and I realize that wearing a bra really does look better than going
braless. But for me, wearing bras is comparable
to wearing shoes: the more support they have, the less comfortable they are.
Yesterday I wore the “Genie Bra” which didn’t seem so tight
fitting until after a couple of washes – did the bra shrink? Or did I
grow? All my other bras seem to fit
okay.
The Genie Bra looks good under tee shirts, but they also
seem to absorb more perspiration than your average bra – at least mine do. And as the heat seems to have started early
this year, I might as well find a bra made out of sponge. I hate feeling the need to change not even an
hour after I’ve gotten dressed. And I
don’t enjoy wet clothes at all.
Tony and Rochelle are visiting from Texas .
My granddaughter, Ester, is running around and making discoveries and
doesn’t mind so much being with Roland and me so long as mom and dad aren’t in
the room – though she has decided to make Roland her friend as she was bringing
him everything she could manage to get her hands on.
She cries when I hold her.
I think it must be the perspiration that woke her up yesterday and made
her cry. It’s not yet in her vocabulary
to say, “Mama, grandma stinks! Please
don’t allow her to hold me.”
As I was straightening up the living room yesterday, I
picked up some toys that Ester had played with, and I realized that I miss that
stage of learner toys cluttering the house.
Jenna may not ever graduate from toys.
She wants to stay little. Does
NOT want to deal with the bra or enter womanhood. I can’t say that I blame her.
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